#by making a piece of paper to move in time with the video being projected over it

[baby-prophet]

test fate.mp4

[ms-demeanor]

Why reblog machine-generated art?

When I was ten years old I took a photography class where we developed black and white photos by projecting light on papers bathed in chemicals. If we wanted to change something in the image, we had to go through a gradual, arduous process called dodging and burning.

When I was fifteen years old I used photoshop for the first time, and I remember clicking on the clone tool or the blur tool and feeling like I was cheating.

When I was twenty eight I got my first smartphone. The phone could edit photos. A few taps with my thumb were enough to apply filters and change contrast and even spot correct. I was holding in my hand something more powerful than the huge light machines I'd first used to edit images.

When I was thirty six, just a few weeks ago, I took a photo class that used Lightroom Classic and again, it felt like cheating. It made me really understand how much the color profiles of popular web images I'd been seeing for years had been pumped and tweaked and layered with local edits to make something that, to my eyes, didn't much resemble photography. To me, photography is light on paper. It's what you capture in the lens. It's not automatic skin smoothing and a local filter to boost the sky. This reminded me a lot more of the photomanipulations my friend used to make on deviantart; layered things with unnatural colors that put wings on buildings or turned an eye into a swimming pool. It didn't remake the images to that extent, obviously, but it tipped into the uncanny valley. More real than real, more saturated more sharp and more present than the actual world my lens saw. And that was before I found the AI assisted filters and the tool that would identify the whole sky for you, picking pieces of it out from between leaves.

You know, it's funny, when people talk about artists who might lose their jobs to AI they don't talk about the people who have already had to move on from their photo editing work because of technology. You used to be able to get paid for basic photo manipulation, you know? If you were quick with a lasso or skilled with masks you could get a pretty decent chunk of change by pulling subjects out of backgrounds for family holiday cards or isolating the pies on the menu for a mom and pop. Not a lot, but enough to help. But, of course, you can just do that on your phone now. There's no need to pay a human for it, even if they might do a better job or be more considerate toward the aesthetic of an image.

And they certainly don't talk about all the development labs that went away, or the way that you could have trained to be a studio photographer if you wanted to take good photos of your family to hang on the walls and that digital photography allowed in a parade of amateurs who can make dozens of iterations of the same bad photo until they hit on a good one by sheer volume and luck; if you want to be a good photographer everyone can do that why didn't you train for it and spend a long time taking photos on film and being okay with bad photography don't you know that digital photography drove thousands of people out of their jobs.

My dad told me that he plays with AI the other day. He hosts a movie podcast and he puts up thumbnails for the downloads. In the past, he'd just take a screengrab from the film. Now he tells the Bing AI to make him little vignettes. A cowboy running away from a rhino, a dragon arm-wrestling a teddy bear. That kind of thing. Usually based on a joke that was made on the show, or about the subject of the film and an interest of the guest.

People talk about "well AI art doesn't allow people to create things, people were already able to create things, if they wanted to create things they should learn to create things." Not everyone wants to make good art that's creative. Even fewer people want to put the effort into making bad art for something that they aren't passionate about. Some people want filler to go on the cover of their youtube video. My dad isn't going to learn to draw, and as the person who he used to ask to photoshop him as Ant-Man because he certainly couldn't pay anyone for that kind of thing, I think this is a great use case for AI art. This senior citizen isn't going to start cartooning and at two recordings a week with a one-day editing turnaround he doesn't even really have the time for something like a Fiverr commission. This is a great use of AI art, actually.

I also know an artist who is going Hog Fucking Wild creating AI art of their blorbos. They're genuinely an incredibly talented artist who happens to want to see their niche interest represented visually without having to draw it all themself. They're posting the funny and good results to a small circle of mutuals on socials with clear information about the source of the images; they aren't trying to sell any of the images, they're basically using them as inserts for custom memes. Who is harmed by this person saying "i would like to see my blorbo lasciviously eating an ice cream cone in the is this a pigeon meme"?

The way I use machine-generated art, as an artist, is to proof things. Can I get an explosion to look like this. What would a wall of dead computer monitors look like. Would a ballerina leaping over the grand canyon look cool? Sometimes I use AI art to generate copyright free objects that I can snip for a collage. A lot of the time I use it to generate ideas. I start naming random things and seeing what it shows me and I start getting inspired. I can ask CrAIon for pose reference, I can ask it to show me the interior of spaces from a specific angle.

I profoundly dislike the antipathy that tumblr has for AI art. I understand if people don't want their art used in training pools. I understand if people don't want AI trained on their art to mimic their style. You should absolutely use those tools that poison datasets if you don't want your art included in AI training. I think that's an incredibly appropriate action to take as an artist who doesn't want AI learning from your work.

However I'm pretty fucking aggressively opposed to copyright and most of the "solid" arguments against AI art come down to "the AIs viewed and learned from people's copyrighted artwork and therefore AI is theft rather than fair use" and that's a losing argument for me. In. Like. A lot of ways. Primarily because it is saying that not only is copying someone's art theft, it is saying that looking at and learning from someone's art can be defined as theft rather than fair use.

Also because it's just patently untrue.

But that doesn't really answer your question. Why reblog machine-generated art? Because I liked that piece of art.

It was made by a machine that had looked at billions of images - some copyrighted, some not, some new, some old, some interesting, many boring - and guided by a human and I liked it. It was pretty. It communicated something to me. I looked at an image a machine made - an artificial picture, a total construct, something with no intrinsic meaning - and I felt a sense of quiet and loss and nostalgia. I looked at a collection of automatically arranged pixels and tasted salt and smelled the humidity in the air.

I liked it.

I don't think that all AI art is ugly. I don't think that AI art is all soulless (i actually think that 'having soul' is a bizarre descriptor for art and that lacking soul is an equally bizarre criticism). I don't think that AI art is bad for artists. I think the problem that people have with AI art is capitalism and I don't think that's a problem that can really be laid at the feet of people curating an aesthetic AI art blog on tumblr.

Machine learning isn't the fucking problem the problem is massive corporations have been trying hard not to pay artists for as long as massive corporations have existed (isn't that a b-plot in the shape of water? the neighbor who draws ads gets pushed out of his job by product photography? did you know that as recently as ten years ago NewEgg had in-house photographers who would take pictures of the products so users wouldn't have to rely on the manufacturer photos? I want you to guess what killed that job and I'll give you a hint: it wasn't AI)

Am I putting a human out of a job because I reblogged an AI-generated "photo" of curtains waving in the pale green waters of an imaginary beach? Who would have taken this photo of a place that doesn't exist? Who would have painted this hypersurrealistic image? What meaning would it have had if they had painted it or would it have just been for the aesthetic? Would someone have paid for it or would it be like so many of the things that artists on this site have spent dozens of hours on only to get no attention or value for their work?

My worst ratio of hours to notes is an 8-page hand-drawn detailed ink comic about getting assaulted at a concert and the complicated feelings that evoked that took me weeks of daily drawing after work with something like 54 notes after 8 years; should I be offended if something generated from a prompt has more notes than me? What does that actually get the blogger? Clout? I believe someone said that popularity on tumblr gets you one thing and that is yelled at.

What do you get out of this? Are you helping artists right now? You're helping me, and I'm an artist. I've wanted to unload this opinion for a while because I'm sick of the argument that all Real Artists think AI is bullshit. I'm a Real Artist. I've been paid for Real Art. I've been commissioned as an artist.

And I find a hell of a lot of AI art a lot more interesting than I find human-generated corporate art or Thomas Kincaid (but then, I repeat myself).

There are plenty of people who don't like AI art and don't want to interact with it. I am not one of those people. I thought the gay sex cats were funny and looked good and that shitposting is the ideal use of a machine image generation: to make uncopyrightable images to laugh at.

I think that tumblr has decided to take a principled stand against something that most people making the argument don't understand. I think tumblr's loathing for AI has, generally speaking, thrown weight behind a bunch of ideas that I think are going to be incredibly harmful *to artists specifically* in the long run.

Anyway. If you hate AI art and you don't want to interact with people who interact with it, block me.

[presiding]

I'm not a new follower and I've been here long enough but i do have a relatively bad memory

So I've wanted to ask, what's your opinion on "Dishonored: death of the outsider"?

Right now I'm replaying Dishonored games not in the release order, i already finished DH2 and started Daud dlcs. Maybe I'll go for vanilla DH later

But thoughts about going through death of the outsider again makes me feel something that i can't explain... 😬

It has some interesting ideas but antagonists are underused. Locations repeat a lot. And Billie herself deserved SO much better than whatever is going on with her character

I'm genuinely debating if i should revisit *this* one or pretend that DH2 is the last game. I know that some people love DOTO but i can't find strength in me

love to chat about death of the outsider, ty for the ask!

i feel your pain. it's the one game i struggle to revisit. but! i was thinking about your points and how DotO has the feel of budget cuts.

it's been about a year since my last DotO post - so, essay time -

a measured response to common DotO criticisms

(the thousand bugs of dishonored 2 I had borne as I best could, but when doto ventured upon sidelining billie and retconning daud's arc I vowed revenge*

*can't resist a cask of amontillado joke

criticism is easy and creation is hard, so, if this isn't the type of response you wanted, you can read my other DotO posts:

how i'd write death of the outsider

that post i did after trying to play doto a third time and couldn't make it past the opening scene (you might like my tags on this re: your comment "makes me feel something i can't explain")

billie lurk as a nonprotagonist & misogynoir (more on this below...)

gonna leapfrog off your comments cause I agree!

antagonists are underused/locations repeat a lot.

who is steering the boat?

let's start up at the top; everything stems from there.

DotO was caught up in ownership/transition issues. here's an article about harvey smith and raphael colantanio at that time. if you didnt know, colantonio is the main founder of arkane (semi-related but just for fun look his appearance up then go through arkane's protags and tell me what you notice...).

quote from harvey smith re: DotO -

“Then, just as I move back, [Colantonio is] announcing that he’s leaving. Going forward, I’ll focus more and more on the Austin studio and what we’re going to do there. Death of the Outsider is my wrapping up with the guys in Lyon – the first half of that we planned together while I was living there, but the second half was worked on while I was living in Austin. I’ve been communicating with them through video conferences and stuff, so they carry a lot of the load of the second half of it.”

so the founder jumped ship and the co-creative director has to step away from his usual position (over to sinking ship Austin). meanwhile, DotO is still in development. i'm a big believer in people making art, and not companies (even in this article Smith acknowledges much of their "secret sauce" can be traceable to specific devs but i digress)

$$$ kaching - some speculation

on the note of founders - past this point in arkane's history (ie. the main founder stepping back), arkane would have been being primed for sale. this translates to high scrutiny on project expenditure (such as hiring cheaper early career staff, hiring less workers, denying your best staff raises causing them to leave and hiring cheaper workers in their place, etc) to make the company's EBITDA look more appealing to buyers (briefly, its the piece of paper that proves you're profitable). based on speculative timelines, from a purely $ perspective within the first year of dh2 being released is when you'd be looking to slim down your capitalised expenditure (aka: cutting staff while the revenue is at a peak to make number go brr and make your company look like a better investment) because to maximise the profit of a company's sale, you really have a great track record for a few years.

this is purely speculation based on timelines. companies are very careful to hide when they're doing this, ideally they want ~3 years of a great track record (and staff that will keep working their hardest).

big goals and no money

DotO was meant to be a two-part DLC like the Dh1 DLCs, so shout out to what could have been made if their original pitch had worked.

On locations & antagonists & budget - this dev's site discusses the Conservatory level in game AND specifies it was budget constraints being the reason for cutting off traversable area from that mission. Great link for comparing the original level & the DotO version, especially re: your point about reused assets/levels.

We could pick other examples here but this post is already long so -

Billie herself deserved SO much better than whatever is going on with her character

i would forgive this game anything if there was any good billie storywriting.

:')

its never just the writers

after revisiting articles to fact-check for this essay, i've seen a lot of articles blaming writers by name (you didn't do this anon which i love <3)

games are made by teams, and decision making is generally done top-down, so blaming individual contributors is shit. 1) writer's pay isn't good enough to cop this kind of abuse. 2) it's rarely in their control - you can write a beautiful scene only to have that level cut due to costs (etc), and then you need to work out how to make the story make sense. ideation & decision-making are separate and i guess 'this idea was [X]'s' should not be mistaken for 'this is the fault of [X]'s.'

on hiring fans (& imm-sim writing strategies)

the new writers [...] already had an idea of the world, as they’d seen it from the outside, as fans. “These are all people that knew this world we had created and they took it as canonical, as the gospel. Whereas, for us, it was bits and pieces we’d made up along the way.”

as someone who used to hire writers, and i promise this isn't in bad faith: don't hire fans unless your priority is cost then, sure, fans are likely to put in overtime (and not be in a position in their career where they can ask for higher remuneration - they'll pay the passion tax to be involved).

writers (esp new career writers) have to be open to receiving feedback assuming healthy/functional processes, and being a fan makes that harder because you care more. and, as a fan, you know what loose ends exist and that's where you'll naturally jump to, even though writers should start with target audience and branding, and build from there. if i expand on this i'll get offtopic so let's keep going!

DotO feels lifeless because it doesn't add anything to the DH universe, it only takes away by closing storylines without the satisfaction of closure. sure, stuff was added - the cult subplot, locations, some NPCs/enemies, etc. but they feel like part of the objectives, not part of the dishonored universe. you can feel the decision-making process when you play: there's a feeling that the priority was to finish the assets required for missions, instead of writing a story that feels immersive.

compared to standard videogame writing, where you can generally get away with "everything you touch and read relates to your objectives as the protagonist", as an imm-sim writer, you need to focus on:

how does this text build the universe so that the player feels like they're only seeing a small part of the world?

of course - this is difficult with budget/time concerns. i've said it before but this is part of why we rarely have games as rich as dishonored 1 & 2, because imm-sim design philosophy flies against the current videogame industry trends of microtransactions & cheap-to-make addictive mobile games. given a tight budget you focus on the high level story, but player immersion is a function of details.

most likely, dh2 was the end of an era. typing that out makes me sad.

what did the devs say about writing billie

*breathes deeply*

the death of the outsider protag was originally pitched as being about a regular human, someone not related to emily and corvo but instead an overseer or a brigmore witch. daud was also pitched.

this could have worked! really cool to have a nobody, or a heretic, or an overseer, be involved with the death of a god. and i've mentioned before that storywise DotO's protag could have been anyone (i think i made a joke about wyman? hah) and wouldn't change the story much, bar some daud bits.

quote from the same article:

eventually Arkane settled on Billie Lurk, Emily's companion from Dishonored 2. [...] Bakaba tells me that because Billie had already received her redemption arc in Dishonored 2, Death Of The Outsider's story could be about something more than that.

welp.

so there's two things here - a redemption arc claim, and DotO's actual story.

in addition to not being the first pick, the view was that billie's story was over. i question the 'redemption arc' claim - sure, billie helps the protag in dh2 but after her confession, if you tell her she's changed, she brushes it off and you part awkwardly without forgiving her... does that count? if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it does it make a sound? if a character redeems themselves but the story never tells you, are they redeemed?

billie's role in dh2 isn't really that different to the dlcs, where she follows you around being Mr Exposition while withholding a LOT of information that could have actually helped the protag. given DotO's plot, going after the killer who shaped her doesn't scream 'reformed' either. ludonarratively speaking, the lack of chaos implies billie never changed from being a callous killer - which i'm not against, it would have been a cool story.

and! contrast this with daud who already had his redemption arc!

When first conceptualising Death Of The Outsider in around 2014, Smith and Duval knew they wanted two things: Billie Lurk being used to get to The Outsider himself, and closure for Dishonored villain (and later ally) Daud.

in the two DLCs, as we know, he comes to realise his actions sucked, and as the player you actively make things right (related: my post about ludonarrative dissonance in dh2). so if billie had "already received her redemption arc", why was this another daud story?

imo this isn't a budget issue but a misogynoir issue. "we want this story to be not about the protagonist so any random NPC will do, how about we go with billie lurk and get a black woman as a dishonored protag?" this logic, which is what i'm reading of the above two quotes, feels frustratingly tokenistic when she's an established character with a rich background. it's an example of surface level diversity because DotO is not about her by arkane's own admission. it's a similar vibe to the companies who say they have a diverse team but you check their staff page and all the people of colour have 'assistant' in their title and the board is all white, so it's not people of colour who are driving the business. maybe this was entirely by accident but these accidents add up to systematic failure - billie gets her own game but never her own story. it feels like she got assigned the caretaker role for these two guys. great.

for fairness, let's compare to dh2. corvo & emily are relatively hands-off protags in terms of their ongoing thoughts about their surroundings and the lore placement about them specifically is sparse, and this style continues in DotO. the issue is the core narrative: corvo & emily are both the protagonists of their story in the sense that dh2's story reflects their goals ("take back what's yours"), whereas Billie is an established character who has arguably little reason to go along with each mission. worse, the main plotline she's literally forced into going along with. in the opening scene billie gets assaulted and still helps the guy who assaulted her.

fundamentally, DotO's narrative is not about billie but about daud and the outsider, and this article makes clear that was by design.

whats the takeaway

DotO is the weakest entry in the Dishonored series for most people, and blaming budget & a corporate changeover makes me feel... uh well it doesn't really help me tbh but your mileage may vary. it does interest me to think about what we could have had!

for me, my opinion is that if writing billie was a priority (link to my own post where i describe the feeling of playing doto as someone interested in billie) arkane would have made it a priority, even amidst constraints. billie's redemption arc was not resolved imo, and putting her in a game without a chaos system feels like as much a backwards slide for her as daud's plotline to kill the outsider was for his arc.

we absolutely 🤝 on not being in a rush to play the game again.

on the upside. dishonored 2 is a really wonderful game and i love it very much.

[brilla-brilla-estrellita]

Crafting Wings

I finally remembered today that tumblr is a blog, and that in addition to whatever fandom nonsense I reblog, I can also post bloggy things on it. Obvious, right?

I am making a set of dragon wings for an event coming up in mid-June. They are of course inspired by Simon Snow and will be red dragon wings (though the pattern I bought from them is technically for a wyvern). I'm hoping that posting progress updates here will help me stick to it and actually get it done in time. I'm breaking it down into teeny tiny easy peasy steps and only looking at the very next step to try to keep the overwhelm and executive dysfunction at bay. This is likely to lead me down a path of "If I'd thought about it earlier, I could have..." But you know what? I always end up there anyway.

So first, I spent a long long long long long (long long long...) time trying to decide how to make these wings. I really wanted articulated wings, bonus if I could move them without obviously pushing or pulling or something. But looking at how people had made that happen was overwhelming. They require so much time and skill and I am prone to procrastination and crying and quitting when I mess up. I finally settled on this DIY Mechanical Wing kit by Chimera Wings. That would give me the frame for the wings, but they also have a sewing pattern (with printed AND video instructions) to make the covers for them!

This is what the contents of the kit looked like when I got it:

And this is the completed build! I almost didn't post this because I don't like the way I look, but you know what? Fuck that. I built something cool (using very simple, easy-to-follow instructions, sure) and I don't want to have to find a better fancier more flattering way to film that, so. I'm getting over it.

You can tell that I kinda struggle with the wing on my right side. I clearly need to stretch my arms out before wearing these. Truly. I tried it after I stretched and it's no big deal. Or maybe I'll add some sort of pulley after all. (HAH. Like I'll have time for that.)

Otherwise, the kit and wings are fantastic. It was so easy to put together and they feel very cool to wear. I should probably go write them a review...

I didn't actually takes pics of the next step, but I printed out the pattern on regular 8.5x11 paper and taped it together. It... was not very well done, but I'm hoping I got it close enough to not have messed up the pattern dimensions. After taping and then cutting out the completed pattern, I could move on to working with actual fabric!

I'm making a mock-up out of old sheets first because I have never once done any sewing project successfully the first time. I decided to mock-up only one wing instead of both, so this will surely be my downfall when I move onto the real deal.

The next two pictures are the front and back pieces for a single wing. I decided to cut them separately instead of at the same time by folding the fabric in half because every time I do more than one layer at a time, at least one of the layers comes out real fucked up. I blame being a lefty in a right-handed world. Scissors are of the devil.

The next step was to make buttonholes that are actually strap holes. I have a little baby basic machine, and it has some limitations. I discovered one of these limitations during my buttonhole test runs. As you can see, the machine-provided "buttonhole" stitches are just... lacking. I messed with a screw that controls the length of these stitches, but for some reason it can only be used to balance out the stitch lengths, not make them overall longer or shorter. I have no control for generally change stitch length. I only have the options presented to me on my stitch chooser knob. Alas, I have less than optimal buttonholes.

Pictured above: (Left) One very sad buttonhole test. (Right) A second buttonhole test in which one side is almost respectable and the other should be ashamed to call itself a buttonhole stitch.

Finally, I gave up and balanced the stitch lengths and just went with it. When I do the real deal, I will likely go use my friend's much fancier machine. For the mock-up, this is sufficient. The next three pictures show, with increasing zoom and blurriness, the completed buttonholes.

I am intentionally using very bright, contrasting thread so that when I inevitably fuck up, I can hopefully see the point of fuck up more clearly so as to rectify it on my next attempt.

And that brings us up to speed! Next Step: Pin the pieces together. That's it. That's the whole step. How many days will it take to overcome executive dysfunction and do it? Only time will tell.

As long as I can remember to update regularly, future posts should be quite short.

[littletealseal]

TW: animal death mention

Wish I wouldn't keep starting these posts like this but!... hey guys, been awhile hasn't it?... muh

Ok but for real a lot has been happening in my life since I last fell off this website... again, I've been doing some stuff with my girlfriend and spending time with her too, we've been working on some projects that aren't art but video game related so that's also a thing... and then the biggest thing to shake my world up...

My dog Vanilla Swirl... has sadly passed away...

Ik ik this is kinda a big thing to drop but I feel I need to just get it out there because while I knew my life would be flipped from the trauma of loosing her.. I didn't know it would be this bad. Like ever since last week when we had to put her down (she was very old at 14 years and was ready to move on ) I felt like I had zero energy, even less energy than I already had issues with! I couldn't bring myself to check in on people I knew and even games for daily stuff, plus I got a bad stomach bug last week as well so that didn't help anything.

I'm not trying to gain any sympathy but to just explain where I've been and where I want to go with this blog.

I deleted my last art piece since I honestly felt after thinking on things it was a very stupid post to make, "not needing certain things" I was so dumb to think that stuff, because I'm needing to regress more than ever due to all this trauma being hurled at me now, not to mention just getting through each day without any problems. Man this post is sounding more and more like a vent post huh?

I honestly want to get back into drawing, because it's something I've always had at my disposal, my ability to draw and create. I'm honestly getting real tired of just letting my abilities rot away and not being able to do anything with them when I need them most. I want to perfect my skills and go somewhere with them, so from this post forward I'm going to attempt to post a drawing (being a doodle or full illustration) here or on my mains just so then at least I can get back into the swing of things, just like how it was when I was a kid 💔

I'm not sure when I'll make a digital drawing since I want to get a proper setup for that (since with how things are with my tablet and it's cables it's driving me NUTS ) but look forward to some classic paper and pen doodles from me :3

See you guys later c:

[cheeriecherrymain]

The flooding of the "domestic/relationship situation prompts that make my heart warm" prompts

(4 of 5)

#14 - repairing a broken appliance

(Inventor Viktor to the rescue! There is no way he DOESN'T keep the house running as a way of showing love. Picture the breakfast scene from chitty chitty bang bang - look up 'chitty chitty Breakfast Pickering' to find the video)

i stole the prompt and ran away with it in my mouth whoops

Viktor x Reader

-Viktor absolutely creates things to make your home life easier. You guys have been together since you were teenagers, and for your entire relationship, he’s flooded your home with gadgets and little machines to help you on the day-to-day. 

-Whenever he’s not working on something big, he’s working on something small; the little things that he knows will make your life easier. Even if it’s the most mundane thing, like an electric can opener, or a portable cooking burner. He’s probably upgraded all of the appliances in the house, too, to make them more efficient. More efficient, more flexible, more reliable. Just…better.

-And then he starts working on HexTech.

-He starts being home less. You wake up more and more frequently to the otherside of the bed being cold - either from him heading to the lab hours prior, or having not slept beside you at all.

-You know that this is a huge opportunity for him, so you’re not going to complain. You know things will calm down eventually. They have to, right? Your relationship is years in the making, so there’s nothing that can break it apart.

-You just miss him, is all.

-Until one afternoon, you’re preparing your lunch and the sink breaks.

-It’s not a big deal. You can wash the potatoes in the bathroom for the time being, but you still make sure to tape a piece of paper over the kitchen faucet, so you don’t forget that it’s broken and accidentally douse yourself with water.

-You’ll ask Viktor to fix it when he comes home that night.

-Except it’s past midnight when he finally drags himself through the door. You meander into the front alcove to greet him with a kiss, though you know he’s surprised that you’re still awake.

-He looks so exhausted after a long day. So worn down that you can’t bring yourself to ask about fixing the sink. If you had to go a few more days without water in the kitchen, so be it: you just wanted him to rest.

-It goes on like that for a while, though.

-Viktor always gets home late, always looks tired, you drag him to bed and spoon him until you fall asleep, you wake up the next morning alone.

-A week passes, and then two. By now, you’ve moved a drying rack into the bathroom, though you’ve been hiding it under the bathroom sink.

-Perhaps hiding is the wrong word. Viktor was completely free to open whatever drawers and cupboards he pleased, and the rack would be in plain sight were he to do so. He just doesn’t. He floats through his morning routine, still half asleep, and pays no mind to the details of your home.

-You don’t blame him for being busy. You don’t blame him for wanting to put so much energy into a new project.

-But you’re frustrated.

-So on the first day of the third week since your sink broke, you dig out a bag of his old tools. Things he rarely used anymore, having been provided with better versions since starting his work with Jayce. But they still work.

-You root through his old notes and textbooks, things he had insisted on keeping even though they no longer served a purpose. Or…they didn’t. Not until now. The design for the split faucet is easy to find, and thankfully Viktor had been thorough with his building instructions and part descriptions.

-It takes you…most of the day, honestly. Fixing things has never been your specialty, but with your boyfriends’ notes to guide you, you manage to do just fine. By eleven at night, the sink works again, and you’ve managed to repair the persistent drip.

-And then, as you’re standing back to admire your handiwork, surrounded by tools and little scraps of paper, Viktor comes home.

-Perhaps the light from the kitchen is what draws him in so quickly, perhaps not, but for whatever reason, he makes a beeline for you. He stops in the doorway, startled by the scene that greets him, and honestly as equally confused. But he connects the dots pretty quickly.

- “Did something break?” he asks, wandering into the room to give you a kiss on the cheek.

-You don’t want to lie to him, but you don’t really want to tell him the truth either. “Just the sink,” you say vaguely, hoping he’ll drop it. But in typical Viktor fashion, he always has more questions.

- “What was wrong with it?” he wonders, stepping away to inspect your handiwork. “It was fine this morning, wasn’t it? Surely the situation was not so dire that you couldn’t have waited until I got home tonight?”

- “What, is my mechanical prowess not up to your standards?” you tease, trying to deflect. But again, he is Viktor.

- “There’s a bit of damage around the tip of the faucet. How much force did you have to use to remove the filter? Surely it wouldn’t have needed that much - unless the sediment was dry? But you use this every day, so it wouldn’t be. It would have needed to be inactive for…” he pauses, turning to you as all the pieces click into place, “...for weeks. Love, how long has the sink been broken?”

-You chew the inside of your cheek for a couple seconds, before admitting to him that yes, it’s been a couple of weeks. “I was going to ask you when you came home the day it broke, but you looked so tired. I wanted you to get some sleep, instead of having to worry about the appliances. And I guess it just…kept happening.” You sigh deeply, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I guess I just didn’t want to be a bother. You’re doing such important work every day, so it’s okay that you’re not here as often. I know this has always been something that you strived for.”

-He’s so gentle when he leans his cane against the counter, and takes your face in his hands, slowly stroking the pads of his thumbs over your cheeks. “I’ve been neglecting you,” he says, though it’s not a question.

- “Nothing is more important to me than you are,” he promises, “And while your support is astounding, you must remember that we are a pair, no? I do appreciate you beginning to learn about mechanics, and I must say, you did a lovely job in repairing the faucet - but do not feel as if you have to, just because I’m tired.” He kisses the tip of your nose. “Do not hesitate to ask me when you need something - I will tell you outright if it’s not something I’m able to do. Alright?”

-You droop slightly, but nod in agreement at his request.  - “Good, sweetheart,” he smiles, “But you know, I’m home early tonight. With all the appliances fixed, we…have a little bit of time together.” He leans down to let his forehead rest against yours, while his hands slowly wander down your body. “If you’re not too tired from your day?”

[kuiperoid]

An Ode to Abandoned Theses

[originally posted here]

Having the opportunity to study in a Master’s Program is so often treated like the pinnacle of opportunity. Suddenly, one has the access, funding, and resources to study whatever incredibly niche topic your heart so desires. Just make sure it is something you are actually able to do.

Wait, what?

So many go into graduate school deeply passionate about some topic. A Master’s Degree sounds so much more elegant and refined than a Bachelor's Degree. The purpose is not merely taking some classes, but to focus on a thesis topic. Some need to start the program to select a thesis, while others have a topic selected even before their undergraduate years began. There is great excitement in knowing that one can truly focus in on a hyper-specific topic more involved than one’s undergraduate years permitted, whether or not a Capstone project was a part of it. It sounds so very free.

However, upon starting one’s thesis, the assumption of freedom slowly disappears. So often, one is hindered by access. Naturally, citing one’s sources and being as accurate as possible is deeply important at this level. Students are blessed with free access to academic papers the way that the general public is not. However, secondary to accuracy in importance is originality. No amount of access to already-written academic journals can create that originality, which is where the difficulty in access stems. From here, students must go out and do their own research, travel to locations to take measurements and make observations, conduct interviews, or contact other researchers for their data depending on what the study involves.

Suddenly, the limitations become all too apparent. Attempts to reach out to others for their input is sometimes met with radio silence. Time constraints force projects to reduce scale. Common refrains aimed at projects deemed too ambitious include “that sounds more like a PhD-level project” or even “maybe you can do this when you become a professor.” It feels like being trapped in a multi-level marketing scheme with more prestige attached and, depending on the institution, state funding.

If one is fortunate, these realizations come early on, perhaps before one’s proposal has even been made. However, this is not always the case. Sometimes projects have already been well under way, a large portion of the preliminary research already completed. Only upon moving to the next step are the limitations revealed. A pinnacle piece of research proves unattainable. A slew of potential interviewees do not respond. The final potential member of one’s committee, the one specifically sought for their particular expertise, points out all of the holes in the premise. Suddenly a thesis project that felt nearly complete falls apart. 

Finding a new topic is not necessarily too difficult. In any given academic’s mind, there are plenty of topics for projects floating around, some more attainable than others. The problem then is not even “what will my new thesis topic be?” so much as “what do I do with all of this now?” There may very well be a PhD or professor research topic, depending on one’s life goals or why the project was rejected to begin with. Perhaps it can be turned into the basis for a special lecture or a thinkpiece for the opinion section of a newspaper. One recalls how many video essayists are current or former academics. Perhaps some of their famous video essays are abandoned theses. One would hate to see all of that time spent on research and all of that knowledge gained go to waste. 

[hekkoto]

Denimo is lovely artist, help her with finishing her arts for upcoming artists fair! Click on pieces of paper and pick art supplies! Just remember to not run out of time! ATCH TEASER HERE: https://youtu.be/e1YBtIR_gCc yo pumpkins, check out this video and prepare for full video soon! Im super excited for this, its my own project of ARG showed as lost flash game :>

Im super proud of myself, I finally started moving forward with my most important works like comms and stuff for my Patrons <3 After really hellish time Im finally starting to feel better. Thank you a lof for your love and support and understanding *huge hugs* I hope this better state will last as long as possible. As always everything depends on my borderline but I gonna keep fighting no matter what! Oh btw, why I wasnt here yesterday: Do you believe I slept for 24h straight!? :D oh damn >XD hahaha, my husband was trying to wake me up every hour but at some point he gave up cause it was pointless! Thankfully now I feel quite good so I gonna use this energy on comms + originals for my Patrons! I had some thought few days ago. My borderline makes me machine of selfdestruction >.> Im kinda worried that no matter what I cant be fixed. I look at myself and I just see that I keep going into bad stuff and even when things start to get better I ruin it again. I kinda wanted to push away being aware of my illness cause truth is very hard. Im worried that with time people will get tired of me cause I will keep being mess, even when things will get better my autodestructive self will cause problems. Do you think fact its caused by borderline will make people forgive me? But anyway, Im alive and fine, I gonna work on those big thingies now ^^ I believe in myself and I believe I can do it! Oh, I found something which really helps me to get things done! Even if it goes slow its still going and doing progress is very important! I need to turn big project into simple steps and doing them one by one and taking breaks from working on them to do different things to clear my mind ^^ wanna support my evil dark empire? Im accepting souls on Patreon and Ko-fi! -> Hekkoto Huge thanks to all of my Patrons and people who donate <3

[octahedral-chaos]

🦐- Talk about a time when you made yourself laugh or cry?

🐍- How do you deal with it when you come across a plothole?

😍- Post one sentence you think is really great.

👽- What do you think is the weirdest thing about your WIP is?

🌵- What did you start with first for your WIP? Worldbuilding, character, or plot?

🫀- Do you have an abandoned project? Why did it get binned?

👍- What was the first piece of creative writing you ever did? How do you feel about it now?

🥸- Which character is most like you?

🕳️- Talk about a research rabbit hole you fell down!

🏡- Would you live in the world you created? Why or why not?

Uhhh Sorry for taking so long, needed to figure out how to answer this:

🦐- Talk about a time when you made yourself laugh or cry?

Uhhhh I don't really get emotional that much, but Aven did cry one time because of Umbro so... yeah-

🐍- How do you deal with it when you come across a plothole?

Try to figure out a way to quickly fix it in the next chapter. Or just make a ridiculously detailed and thought-out worldbuilding plan so I won't get confused.

😍- Post one sentence you think is really great.

From "Aster's Ascent (First Chapter)

"I know, use the D-Pad to move... although is this... you know, not a video game?"

(I love my silly lad!)

👽- What do you think is the weirdest thing about your WIP is?

(Going with Aster's Ascent again) The fact that it's a crossover of Worldless... and Kid Icarus: Uprising.

🌵- What did you start with first for your WIP? Worldbuilding, character, or plot?

Usually I start with worldbuilding, and then plot. More often that not, when I get the idea, I usually get the main character for it one time.

🫀- Do you have an abandoned project? Why did it get binned?

Not really? Like I do want to write all of them, but my brain can be very confused as to what to do next.

... I should work on my WIPs that need love, especially Project Electrolife and Project Runalongs!

👍- What was the first piece of creative writing you ever did? How do you feel about it now?

Hmmm... I actually don't know! Most likely it was a school project, and maybe it was probably terrible to my (current) standards, but hey, at least little Octa tried to get something out of her head and on to paper!

🥸- Which character is most like you?

OH GOD THIS ONE IS TOUGH

Uhhhh, maybe Acanthe? She's pretty nice and honestly I could vibe with her.

🕳️- Talk about a research rabbit hole you fell down!

I got mildly interested in medical stuff because of Something Beautiful... oh and Biopunk stuff for Project Electrolife!

I think the biggest one might be Starblood Valleys (Despite it not being a proper story), because I went full on speculative evolution and such on it.

🏡- Would you live in the world you created? Why or why not?

Putting this in list format!

Project Runalongs: Yes. I would love to have a Runalong, plus it's just a really chill place (Not including the... stuff)

My Party Adopted This Angel-Thing: Yes. It's a really chill clockpunk/ fantasy hybrid setting... except for the looming threat of Shade Hunt and its blight-

Starstinger's Wastelands: COWBOY YEEHAW

Project Electrolife: No. Do I look like I want to be mind controlled?

Starblood Valleys: Also no. Because there's a lot of dangers here and I don't think even Endling could save me from running into danger

[elleenvs3000f23]

Blog 10 - Where I started, what I learned and my personal ethic as an interpreter

Why I wanted to learn about interpretation

I first started to consider the value and role of science outside just curiosities sake seriously in first year. I was working as a research assistant to a prof and in the early days of lockdown was waist deep in trying to outline and plan my research project on hydrological connectivity. My professor kept talking about how we needed to find our story - did we want to make research that talked about agriculture and changing land use? Did we want to make a new piece for the climate change puzzle by looking at how incoming precipitation changes would move around the watershed? Did we want to comment on urbanization and the changing structure of our landscape? 

I realized very quickly that my research and work as a scientist was going to be much more complicated than the experiments I did in highschool labs, or even the modeling I was currently working on in GIS. Science for science's sake is fun - I think a good baking-soda volcano is a testament to human creativity and the wonder of the little things. But experiments alone don't exactly draw funding and publications - or better yet, inspire real action and as our school would put it "improve life". Learning how to communicate my work as a scientist has since become a goal in my undergrad and was what led me to this course. In a scientific paper, sometimes you read a few sentences about the background of a place or the people that might be impacted by X phenomenon but the papers are never actually written for those people. I think interpretation can be a vehicle for bridging academia and communities in a two way street. 

In our reading for unit 10 we watched a video conversation between David Suzuki and Richard Louv. One thing Louv said that really resonated with me is the impact our imagined futures have on the world. If people think that they are separate from nature, or that environmental movements are futile, we are bound to head towards that envisioned world. I think being able to share research and nature itself with general populations is crucial to making sure we as a community are on the same page about what we value and what we want the future to look like. 

What I brought with me into this course

I come from a family of storytellers. My mom writes children's stories, my brother is an actor studying journalism, I do improv theater - family dinners are always a riot. Early in the course I would always try to anchor my blog posts to a story or experience I had - it felt like a way to make my work both unique and relatable. I think this anchor in storytelling is natural to me and I love the work I produce as a result of it - I think it is crucial to my approach to interpretation and I don't plan on losing it anytime soon. In the video of Louv and Suzuki linked above - they also both start the conversation with personal stories that connect their lives to nature - it is clearly a powerful tool to build engagement and emotional connection. 

My moments of connection to nature are often grounded in my workouts - running and kayaking. I think the fact that I see nature as a place to push myself and let go of stress is important to how I interact with interpretation and would share nature with others. We talked about risk and interpretation in unit 3 and how being exposed to some level of uncertainty and hardship can push us to build resiliency and discover new abilities in ourselves. That unit also taught us to think carefully about what thresholds of risk are acceptable and how to know when to step back and re-evaluate. I have been on both ends of this rope - having some of my best times being recorded because I got lost during a run but also reaching a point where I pushed too hard and had to call a friend to pick me up from the trail when I got heat stroke. I think having this experience and attitude towards time in nature as time to test limits is a unique counterbalance to my hopes of sharing more academic knowledge as an interpreter - Is there a niche for nerdy-jocks? I think that’s who I want to be as an interpreter. 

What I learned about myself and interpretation 

This course opened my eyes to how we can interpret more than just information and facts. Music and art are also crucial to connecting with and understanding nature. I have to give more thought to how I could connect these to my own interpretation; I write songs but doubt I will be confident enough to share them with an audience any time soon so perhaps art and music can be a way to bring collaborators into my interpretation. I often mention my friend Jack and his photos on this blog so continuing to talk to and share the work of local artists would be something to include in my approach to interpretation. 

Overall I think my initial impression of interpretation as a way to communicate science was narrow minded. Interpretation needs to be a two way street that connects with the beliefs and values of the people participating - maybe they can even give inspiration for new research questions as I begin to understand their needs and questions!

My responsibility and ethic

I want to

Celebrate local environments

Integrate physical activity with time in nature

Make communicating research essential to my interpretation

Connect communities to relevant research that impacts their lives

Make work that is relevant to current issues and questions and motivates action on issues such as habitat loss, water resource protection and climate change

I need to make sure

Make sure emphasis on physical activity doesn’t exclude disabled people form my work

Make sure that higher risk interpretation activities have an awareness of when risk has gone to far and have an exit strategy

Make sure I am as accurate and faithful to the science I share

Make sure I people are able to continue to engage with what they learned

A summary of my approach to future interpretation

I am a water researcher - it's been my work throughout undergrad, I will study pollution and water quality for my masters and I hope to continue to a pHd. As I mentioned in my earlier blogs, I believe that water is a great connector of people and nature. Water has great historical importance as we established communities along the shores of water bodies and traveled oceans and rivers. We can’t live without it but people are very disconnected from it as a resource that comes from taps and bottles. I want to make sure that I am connecting my interpretation to high quality science as well as the needs of the local community. In my home of Guelph/Fergus, a great deal of concern exists around protecting groundwater reserves from the bottled water industry and a key landscape feature is the Grand River so I would focus my interpretation around the history of the Grand and the environmental role of groundwater and rivers. I also think by encouraging participants to share their memories, stories and art of time in nature I could help build connection. I want to do an interpretation that is directly relevant to the issues facing the environment and communities and I believe that we can all benefit from spending more time outside and being active. In a single sentence I want to do scientifically based, community focused interpretation with an emphasis on physical activity.

[dislyteshack]

I did it again

The cliffs were a sight to behold this time of year. It seemed no matter how long or how often Yun chuan would stare there was always something suddenly different that would make being stationed by the overseas cliffs a different experience.

To li xiao he never saw the appeal, it was all just a structure of rock with unthinking seas below, unmerciful to those who took the wrong step.

"How far do you believe it goes?"

From an opening of the sentry tower, one could easily get a view of the cliffs along with the Very thing keeping them in there, the chaos miracle.

It took a few seconds for Yun chuan to piece together what his boss had meant

"You mean the seas?"

of course xiao had meant the seas, there would be no other situation he would phrase his question like that

"What do you think?"

Chuan stepped over where xiao was , taking his place next to the other

"I'd say at least a couple dozen feet, why do you ask"

Before xiao could give an answer chuan continued on

"Because, ah…if you're considering finding out for yourself…."

"I would have calculated if that was my intention, can I not simply make small talk?"

Yun chuan huffed at his response , scratching the back of his head

"You're not very good at that"

"I'd say quite the contrary, we are speaking right at this moment. Therefore I succeeded"

There was little to do in the tower, there was a shelf for books to be stored and there were places to sit but all they could do was watch and warn.

And even the opportunity to warn was rare

Thus , all a guard had as a prevention from losing one's self was their assigned partner.

There really truly was nothing much to do really, which is why an idea came to chuan. With Li Xiao preoccupied staring off again he took the opportunity to worm his way behind him, choosing to rest his head on Xiao's shoulder.

Chuan could sense the hitch in xiao's breath at his sudden movement

"What are you doing?"

Xiao began to feel Yun chuan's arms around his waist, easily encapsulating him in a warm embrace from behind. He could feel a flush creeping up to his face, a deep contrast to his paper white complexion.

"And what if someone sees us?"

A deep chuckle emanated from the man behind him, Chuan was so close to his ear. Hearing his voice alone only made Li Xiao blush harder.

"We don't have to worry about that for now"

Gods that voice, that gruff drawn out voice. It drew him in, and with a gulp Xiao allowed himself just for a moment to let his guard down, surrender himself to his lover.

Yun chuan would sweep him up into a bridal carry, to the table that would usually hold documents for work. he gently laid Li xiao down, as if handling porcelain

And Xiao made the first move, With a grunt he pulled Chuan by his necklace to be just inches away from his own face. Xiao's lips lingered, open and yet not touching skin just yet. He wasn't about to make it that easy , Xiao wanted to savour this private moment to see how much teasing Yun Chuan could handle.

Sure enough Chuan changed his move , choosing to look pleadingly into Xiao's scarlet eyes with his deep brown. It was adorable, really it was. Seeing how Chuan's shoulders relax and his own mouth opening and forming into a near pout. It really was like training a dog

"You….you really like seeing me like this don't you?"

There was a viable red on Chuan's face now, a deep red. He was panting ever so slightly as well. This. This was the look that could break Xiao, with this one glance he dropped everything and began tugging on the collar of Yun chuan's turtleneck to kiss him once and for all.

When they kissed , at first they began apprehensively , with light feathery kisses due to xiao's fear of being spotted.

However as time went by Xiao became bolder and so did Chuan they now kissed with a passionate aggression, Hard gripping fists grabbing at anything and anywhere, fists in each other's clothes,gulps in between when one of them couldn't quite catch their breaths, Chuan hadn't quite noticed their positions had been switched during this period of lovemaking.

Now he found himself on the floor of the tower with a Li Xiao who was in the midst of planting simply so many kisses that he couldn't get a single word in to express his adoration. He could even feel Xiao start to get more bold as he traversed down to begin nibbling on Chuan's face and neck, cooing in the process.

Both of Chuan's hands raised to bury themselves in the neat bun Xiao usually wore, So currently it could hardly be considered as neat with strands falling loose on the other. He began to pull, eliciting a High gasp from Li xiao. The other's hair would finally be free from its tight coils now all descending into the sides of his face.

But Yun Chuan's hands wouldn't stop at that, they began gripping at xiao's now freed hair , threading his fingers through strands and wrenching. Indescribable noises came from xiao after this, it was music to listen to . A true symphony , better than any flute chuan had heard in the past.

Xiao countered with the repositioning of Yun chuan to have his back against the wall, A gloved hand reaching to pet soft spiky hair, another reaching to scratch under his chin.

Chuan began making small noises at this , small whimpers bubbling up in his throat. Lapping up the attention.

"There's my good little pup"

Chuan blushes as he heard that nickname

He nuzzled into Xiao , his whimpers turning into whines. Chuan could feel his stomach turn in such a good way, it felt light and he never wanted to let go of xiao . In this moment he loved him, he was the most precious thing to Chuan.

He could feel his heart racing fast, it almost felt as if it was beating right out of his chest. Chuan could faintly hear xiao's own heartbeat from how close they were to one another.

When this affair had ended both men lay on top of each other a line of drool connecting their lips, they both breathed out of sync. And they both had no words for what had gone down in here.

This was the point of no return, the point that sealed how much they truly cared for each other. They locked eyes with each other once more. Both gazing up in awe, Li Xiao began nuzzling up to Chuan's shoulder, it felt comforting and protective.

They both laid in abject silence enjoying each other's company, before xiao broke the silence

"Chuan?"

By this time , Yun chuan was close to having his eyes fully closed. He began to reopen his half lidded eyes, giving a questioning hum as a response and a reassurance that he still was there.

Xiao's tone sounded desperate, scared. Like a wet kitten who was close to tears, terrified of an unknown fate

"....you know I would do anything for you, right?"

Of course he knew this was obvious and there was only one answer he knew to give . Chuan trusted that Li xiao would do anything he knew how devoted the other seemed to him and of course he would do the exact same if it meant the safety or happiness of his lover

"Yes" he didn't have to hesitate for even a second

This hopefully seemed to satisfy xiao, he didn't seem to have his expression changed. Xiao moved deeper, looking to conceal half of his face

".. know that…I truly do love you….I'm yours"

There was something just so ragged about xiao's response, something so relieving inside.

Chuan really did love him as well, without Xiao, he simply wouldn't be here , he wouldn't have a place to stay and now he was receiving affection as well. He knew only only one way to respond

"And I am as well."

[dyandyan0]

trying to be philosophical... and #mindful 09.02.2024

currently packing for the big move tomorrow. i procrastinated all day because i didn't want to start until all the laundry was done, and i got way too into sims again so i've been playing that whenever i have the free time and ended up wasting like half the day. anyways, i had this podcast on in the background while packing and it touched on a lot of things that i had been contemplating lately. i initially clicked on it cos i was like wow serj and dwight from the office. it was just very random and unexpected to see this duo on the front page of my youtube. i didn't even know rainn wilson had a philosophy/interview podcast!! besides the point, i was inspired by both of the ways serj and rainn saw creativity, art, and how they connected that to their views on sprituality and prayer. i don't want to butcher what they said and meant by trying to explain it myself, but they lay it out beautifully in the first 20 minutes of the video.

this topic made me think about how i have been able to take care of myself on a deeper, more spiritual level. i have never been religious. i think i believe in god, but i don't know if it's just because i fear what's to come after death, and the thought of a heaven and god is comforting to me. despite that, i often times have a deep resent towards many organized religions and teachings. it's hard for me to meditate and pray in a way that is meaningful to my soul and healing to my mind when i feel so conflicted about the topic. in the podcast, serj talks about his creative outlets and how they serve as a kind of prayer and meditation for him, and it really made me think.

i think about a more peaceful time in my life, when i was in middle school to early high school. i used to draw every single day. i used to draw on any piece of paper i could find. i was constantly sharing art, looking at art online, making connections through a small artist community, and finding new ways to advance my skills. i would start a project, and wouldn't stop until it was finished. by then the entire day would have gone by. i rarely get these bursts of creativity nowadays, with my last piece being made back earlier this year... and before that i don't even know when. it pains me all the time how abruptly i stopped drawing and painting once i hit high school. i feel all the time as though my ego got the best of me, i wanted to give into things that didn't serve me, petty high school drama, toxic relationships, a feeling that i needed to prove myself to people who didn't care about me at all. of course, i don't blame myself for giving into these things. i was a teenager, and most teenagers do. but i'm sad that i feel like i sacrificed my creative drive, my purpose for a very long time, to this lifestyle that i fell into, and i feel like i never got it back. i try so hard to find passion in art again. i look back at the stacks of filled sketchbooks in my closet that i completed from my early teen years often. i get inspired by them, open a new sketchbook, and struggle to make anything that i am proud of or feel like i'm having fun making.

i'm not completely hopeless though. i started scrapbooking earlier this year. it feels like a form of free therapy when i collect a bunch of new photos, receipts, former letters, tickets, etc. and sit down for hours to display them in the book. i felt serj on a deep level when he talked about painting and how he would start, then finish, and notice that hours had gone by. that's how i felt when i used to draw all the time, and how i feel now when i get the chance to scrapbook new things. i just want to have another outlet for me to express myself that's fun again, that makes me feel happy and good about things.

i don't know if i'm being a bit vague or if what i'm saying resonates with anybody. i just feel like i have felt lost for a very long time because i lost my sense of purpose. i lost my drive, a way for me to meditate and feel like i'm contributing to the universe, even in a small way. i'm trying to be more hopeful that i can go back to a point where i'm proud of myself in this way.

[oatmealdaydreams]

Hearthfire (4/16)

Chapter III | How to Hide in Pain: An Autobiography by Red

<- Prev // Masterpost // Next ->

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Summary: Roman is in pain. Remus does what he can to help and comfort his brother. Orange tends to a literal screaming skunk in the Flower Garden.

Warning: insecurity, burn scars, panic, emotional repression, implied/referenced intrusive thoughts, touch-starvation, innuendos; let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 5851

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Red hasn’t left his room in over a week. Green is worried. 

Cyan and Purple have no fucking clue what’s going on with their fellow Sides. 

Yellow hasn’t dared to be around Green for a while.

Red hasn’t left his room in over a week. Green is worried.

Which is to say, he’s furious for his brother. Red is hurt, scared, angry at those who hurt him and angry at himself. Green hates the way it clenches his chest and threatens his own greenish thoughts to swirl thicker around his head. 

Green is worried. Red is hiding himself away in his room.

=====

Orange lays on his stomach, on his covers, as he scrolls through his phone. He had to replace the old one, again, yesterday after tending to the Flower Garden. The resident skunk won’t stop screaming at its brother cardinal as it just sits on the Orange Tree branch, making no move to sing or attempt to fly. It’s not like the chicklet can fly, not with that broken wing, but still. Still, the skunk screams and screams because its brother is hurt and all it can do is wail. It can’t fix a broken wing no more than a Duke can fix a breaking Prince. 

So, screaming skunk. 

Orange had thrown his old phone at his wall as soon as he was back in his room, the shattered pieces clinking glass and softly thudding metal onto the carpet. The skunk and its annoying little sounds wouldn’t stop and irritated the fuck out of Orange. He does his best to keep the Flower Garden as unharmed from his own outbursts as he possibly can, so he’d forced himself to wait until he was in the confines of his room. And then he let his anger loose, fire scorching more parts of his skin, new burn scars forming. He’d thrown his phone as the last flames engulfed his elbow, shouting in both frustration and pain. He hadn’t bothered with a phone case. It’s happened too many times for him to care. 

His burns now wear bandages, properly cared for as he rests. His small, vibrant wings stretch out in full. Orange relaxes the best he can while he distracts himself with videos on skunk care. He can’t blame the skunk for being loud about its worry, nor would he really blame Green for doing the same. 

Which brings him to groan as scorched words appear before his eyes, blocking his phone from view. 

I’m trying, I’m trying so hard. Why can’t he stop hurting me? Why won’t they stop? Please, it’s not—why won’t they stop? Why?

Orange nearly chucks his newer phone at the same wall he did with the previous one; however, it lands softly on his pillow as he feels a strong tug in his chest. 

Fucking Christ, they just love summoning me, don’t they, he thinks sarcastically as he shifts into his mist form again, sinking out to see which little critter he needs to tend to. 

=====

It’s the cardinal, isn’t it?

“That’s not it—where’d it go? What...no, not that one,” a voice mumbles, papers ruffling and flipping about. 

Orange’s right, it’s the little Creative cardinal. 

Orange shifts under the desk. This is a really inconvenient place to be summoned to, thank you very much, and he’d rather have a better vantage point to see what’s going on when he’s observing. From where he floats just above the carpet, he can see Red’s boots shuffling as he looks for something. Red’s sitting at his craft desk, it seems, still wearing his Prince costume by the looks of it. The telltale sound of a pencil rolling across wood and more papers flipping means he’s looking for a project. Question is: is it one for Rainbow, or one for himself? He’s been away for a little while, so any work he’s done hasn’t been made known to anyone. 

Rainbow thought he was resting. 

The small, purple, vine-like anklets around his boots prove otherwise. 

There’s dirt smeared on his usually pristine white pants, and mud clings to the bottom of his footwear. It’s hardly a few specks of mud, to be fair, but it still shows a recent departure into the Imagination. So, definitely not resting, knowing Red. 

See? This is what he meant when he said he couldn’t spoil. Isn’t that a nice little callback? Ha, ‘callback’...funny because Red would seethe in pain if he heard it again so soon. 

“No, that’s for the other thing...fuck, where is it?” worry starts to weigh heavy on Red’s tongue, his searching getting more and more frantic. 

A soft whine slips from his lips as he accidentally knocks a pencil off his desk, it cluttering softly onto the floor. His forehead thuds down among the mess stories and projects he has strewn about. A quick, disappointed sigh buzzes through the air as Red sits there. The little purple anklets grow tiny forget-me-nots and daffodils, shimmering as they pop out as buds. 

Red lays his forehead there for a while, not speaking and hardly moving other than clenching his hands onto his vibrant sash. The sash groans in protest as his grip tightens on it, soft noises making his nose sniffle. He’s...oh, little cardinal. Poor little chicklet. Red cries softly as emotion lodges his throat, thick and heavy and painful. Tears track down his face, gathering dirt along the way and falling off his chin in a murky liquid. It wets his pants in tiny droplets, most similar to rain when it sprinkles from the evening sky. 

There’s something uncomfortably intimate about watching someone else cry. It sits awkwardly in Orange, just where his rib would be in his usual form. There’s a weight to it, heavy enough to be felt but not enough to hurt too much. In fact, it’s less of a pain and more of a weird little creature laying by where his heart normally is. It’s small, like a little bird nesting with newly fallen twigs and soft mud. The soft cries break into sharp, gasping sobs. Orange winces—or, at least, does the closest thing to wincing in his mist form—and shifts over to peek out from under the desk and spots the fallen pencil. Red tries muffling and holding in his sobs—oh, god, no. No, that’s going to hurt, you don’t have to do that.

No, Red, it’s okay to let your cries slip out. They should hear what they’ve done. They’ve hurt you. Why try to hide now, after everything that’s happened? Orange can only ask in his thoughts as he eyes the pencil on the carpet. 

Carefully, gently, Orange reaches out and absorbs the stupid little pencil into himself and hovers back under the desk. He looks at Red. He hasn’t noticed Orange there—not that he usually does, or that any of them do—and keeps clenching tightly at his sash. It’s going to rip if he keeps doing that. Red spent hours on that Prince costume himself. He wouldn’t want to ruin it, would he? 

Orange fluctuates and shapes a mist-like hand that’s half in one form and half in the other, sneaking the pencil back onto the desk as Red’s breaking. As soon as it clutters in front of Red, Orange whips away his hand and shifts it back fully into citric mist. Red startles at the sound of the pencil, lifting his head up in alarm. He has to thump it back down for a moment—head practically swimming–before he glances at the pencil. Picking it up with an undoubtedly shaky hand, the princely Side winces as his hand creaks and groans. Now that it’s free from the sash, less likely to rip without a hard grip, he grips the pencil properly. His cries have ceased to silent tears running down his face. 

Then, his hand sparks, and the pencil catches on fire. 

It nearly makes Red jump out of his seat. Orange hovers and sneaks across the carpet as he’s distracted, fitting his misty self under Red’s grand canopy bed. Now in a better vantage point for proper observation, he watches as Red hurriedly unscrews the cap to his water bottle and dunks his pencil in it. Now with pencily water and sparking hands, he slumps back into his chair grunts in frustration. Luckily, as far as Orange can see, none of the projects scattered across his desk are affected. 

A hand twitches, another tugging at Red’s hair. He curses under his breath, pulling at strands and huffing sharply. He keeps cursing, less under his breath as he slowly gets louder. He shouts a swear and tugs harder. 

I was working so hard, I tried so hard to find the right thing for them. I just want to do something right and not be confronted with disappointment. It’s for them, always for them, why can’t it—I have to be what they want. I can’t—I can’t—

Amber torches Orange’s eyes as the words appear before him, sharp and angry and hurt. 

Someone needs to reach out, desperately. Orange can’t reach out, Red doesn’t know he even exists, only a select few do: the Purple armadillo, the Yellow bumblebee, and the Green skunk. He wouldn’t react well, especially given his reactions to the bumblebee and the skunk appearing and introducing themselves to Rainbow. So, he can’t do much except watch. That’s a part of his job, he supposes. The way that everyone’s trying to hide frustrations, that’s how it’s going to go for now. Until they learn how to let their anger off a lease, that’s how it’s going to go. 

Nebulous, greenish clouds of goopy tentacles form and latch themselves around Red’s head, and Orange figures out who it’ll be to come to Red’s aid. 

Of course, he thinks as the purplish vines with light blue and yellow flowers bloom and thicken. Who else would come to the chicklet’s aid?

A soft pop and thud onto the bed above Orange. The bed squeaks as someone crawls off quickly, looking around for the breaking royal. Green—Orange can see his boots, matching with his brother’s—hears the state of Red before he sees it, and he snaps himself in much softer clothing. Now it’s fuzzy socks that soft thump thump thump on the carpet as he approaches his brother. 

“Ro?” Green calls as he nears Red, whose hand stills in his hair. “Roro, you okay?”

Red recovers from his flinch as he processes that the thud that came from behind him is just his brother. His hand doesn’t leave his hair, but he does risk a quick glance over his shoulder. He regrets it as soon as he sees Green’s furrowed brows, worry bleeding all over his face. He hides his face away from him as he approaches further. 

“Ro-bro, c’mon, it’s just me, it’s okay,” Green continues as he stands next to Red. 

Red won’t look at him, his head stubbornly turned away. He tugs at his hair again, and Green makes a noise. 

“Hey, nuh-uh, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Red huffs. 

“Hey, c’mon, it’s gonna—okay, okay, easy, Ro.”

As soon as Green tries to reach his own hand to gentle away Red’s from his hair, he honest-to-god whines. 

“‘S okay, you’re safe, Roro, just me ‘n you, no one else’s here.”

Red lets out a shaky breath as Green finally manages to gently and carefully remove his hand from tugging again. Red’s hand twitches and sparks, and he yanks to chest and out of Green’s grasp before the sparks can even touch his brother’s skin. Green blinks in surprise. 

“A li’l sparks ain’t gonna hurt me, Ro, it’s fine,” he soothes, speaking softly as he catches a glimpse of panic in wide greenish eyes. 

The purplish vine-anklets have grown another bloom—or rather another plant—as sprigs of ferns pop up among the forget-me-nots and daffodils. The ferns shudder as they spring about and grow, looking as if they’re meant to overcrowd and push the flowers away. The flowers wither slightly in response, shrinking in on themselves as the ferns mostly block them from view. 

The greenish octo-cloud burbles and pulses as thoughts invisible to Orange swirl around and in Red’s mind. One of the thoughts makes Green wince, gently tugging Red’s tunic so he can get his attention again. 

“Aye, you ain’t gonna hurt me, Ro, you’d never, c’mon. Let me help, bro-bro,” Green insists softly. 

Red takes a shaky breath, turning to his brother. The Duke lets out a noise of bare concern when he sees the red-rimmed eyes and tears still sluggishly gliding down his face. Red goes to tighten his hands and tuck them uncomfortably into his chest when Green pushes a fidget object into his grasp. It’s made of shiny, dark metal with various patches of soft fabrics all around it. Red thumbs a fuzzy green patch experimentally, his shoulders slumps a little once he does it again and again. It’s soft, very much so, and it stutters his greenish thoughts as he starts to run more fingers over it. 

“Made it myself,” Green explains, “‘S patches of fabrics you like to stim with. Thought you’d wanna have somethin’ to mess with when you get all grumpy.” 

Red looks up from fidgeting with the metal, patchwork ball and stares at the Duke. His fingers glide over a new patch: cool, fluffy, and oddly blue with little grey stars on it. 

“What?” Red’s voice is small and hoarse from crying. 

“It ain’t gonna catch fire, I’ve tried—oh. Oh, hey, Roro, what’s that for?” Green gets all gentle with his voice as his brother starts crying again. 

“‘M s’rry, didn’t mean—mean to—”

“No need, bro-bro, you’re good, you’re okay.” 

“I jus’—just—” 

“Squeeze it, c’mon, there ya go.”

Red sniffles and squeezes the fidget ball as hard as he can, the give feeling like a squishy stress toy instead of something made of metal and fabric. He repeats that action, again and again and again, squeezing all the life out of the inanimate toy. It’s odd for something metallic and soft to actually be squishy, but no one could care less as it eases more of the tension out of Red. And, honestly, it’s a creation of Green’s, when would he ever care for what makes sense? 

As Red relaxes little by little, Green cups his brother’s face and thumbs away stray tears. The Prince leans into his hand, eyes fluttering for a second as the octo-cloud untangles its tentacles from around Red’s head. It dissipates slowly, and Green glares away the last bits that linger around. The purplish anklets loosen the smallest bit as the ferns attached wither away and regress into nothingness, dust falling onto the carpet as it disappears. The daffodils and forget-me-nots stay, though dim lightly, shuddering as the vines do. 

Orange waits from under the bed, eyes glowing a light colour like the butterfly weeds in the Flower Garden. 

A red cardinal chirps the first second of a song amidst the branches of an Orange Tree, and a skunk stops wailing. 

Words, soft and bright, dance in front of Orange’s eyes as the Prince gets the comfort he’s carved for so long. 

Please stay, I hope you’ll stay. Hold me. Don’t let me go. Please, brother, stay—stay with me?

There’s strands of Hope that twirl with citric ribbons, a wonderful dancer weaving themself in the heartstrings buried in Red’s chest. Orange does the closest thing he can muster to a smile while he floats as mist, watching as Green continues thumbing and stroking his brother's cheek. Green presses firmly with his thumb—not enough to hurt, just enough to be steady—and Red’s eyes flutter shut as he melts.

“Oh, Ro...why didn’t ya say anythin’?” Green mutters. 

“I, uh, I didn’t—you’re so warm,” Red slurs and stumbles, words tumbling out of his mouth. 

Green hums, “‘S soft time, time to get some soft things on, li’l bro.”

“‘Kay…”

Red’s voice is nothing above a sleepy mumble.

“Wait, Re,” he mumbles as Green goes to let go, fidget ball forgotten in the sleepy Side’s hands. “Where’re you going?”

“The bed, dork.”

“‘M not a dork, you’re a dork.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Mhm, I say so. Besides, I thought Lo was the dork?” 

“He is. But so are you—”

“Nooo…”

“Yes, I say so, I’m the older brother.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yep, you’re the li’l bro, I’m the big bro.”

“‘M not little!”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“Re.”

“Nope, totally got it.”

“Rem’s.”

The twins bicker and banter as Green snaps Red into soft clothes, the Prince costume appearing in its place, pristine, hidden in the closest where it stays for the time being. The Duke takes the Prince gently by the elbow, guiding him to bed, across soft carpet, away from his messy pile of projects on his craft desk. Red squeezes the fidget ball again before he almost drops it, thumbing over the blue patch with the stars again. It reminds him of Indigo, it seems, a small smile tugging at his lips. A little fire—a different fire, nothing in Orange’s domain, nothing that bares the feathers of a canary—crackles contently at the thought of the scholarly Side. The purplish vine-anklets shrivel and loosen further, the bright flowers regressing into buds and browning slightly as the tips. 

As they settle, mattress squeaking and blankets rustling, the twins cuddle in close proximity. Red curls around the fidget ball as he thinks about Indigo, the wonderful astrophile, but frowns as the memory of that accursed meeting lingers. He sank out before the meeting had actually ended, so he’s not aware of what happened afterwards. He’s unaware of what happened to Indigo, how Green defended his brother in a citric, explosive fire of what the fuck did you do, and he has no fucking idea how horrified Yellow was as soon as it dawned on him what he’d done. He has no clue. He doesn’t know. 

And yet, he frowns, something awful wiggling around in his gut. 

Green notices his brother lost in thought, frowning as he stares off into nowhere, and promptly pokes his side.

“Wha—hey!” Red squawks as the sleepiness falls off like sand. 

“What’s the face for?” Green asks, poking Red’s stomach this time. 

“Ah—nothing, it’s nothing—Re!”

“I’ma keep poking ya ‘til you tell me.”

“You—ahk, okay, okay! Stop it–”

Green stops poking his brother and smooths away any lingering tingles, scooting closer to the Prince. Red huffs, squeezing the fidget ball again before running his fingers over the starry patch again. He glances at the patch before glancing back at the Duke. 

“The, um...the meeting…” he trails off, his other hand twitching. 

Green softens, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, it, uh, it’s...what happened after I kinda—I left?” 

An awkward shift, orange flickering across Green’s eyes, “Jannie—Janus’ a fuckin’ asshole, ‘s what happened.” 

Bitter, tart words look awfully like dripping acid.

He hurt you, he wasn’t supposed to hurt you.

Red darts his gaze away as shame bubbles up his throat, shrinking into the mattress. Green sighs, tugging his brother closer and wrapping himself around him like a bear to its kin. 

“Not mad at you, Roro,” he eases.

“No?” Red’s voice goes small. 

“No, Ro, you’re good, you’re good.”

The brothers settle again. 

There’s a few minutes of silence.

“...did he—is Logan okay?” Red stumbles over his question, thumb pressing against the same blue, starry patch again. 

Green sighs, heavier, “Lolo’s a brand of fucked-up right now.”

“What? Is he—”

“No, he’s not hurt, not like that.”

A new flower blooms in full as the other two turn to dust, a stark blue iris lying in the center of each vine-anklet like a pendant. The purplish vine tightens, and spikes make their presence known as they press lightly into Red’s fuzzy socks. The irises twinkle instead of shimmer. 

“But he’s hurt?” Red’s worried.

“He panicked, Ro,” Green is, too.

“‘Panicked’? He—from what?”

“Y’know how sometimes he gets these orange eyes when he’s angry?”

“Um, now I do.”

“Well, seein’ it on someone else kinda freaked him out.”

“Whose–oh. Oh, I didn’t—”

“I know, I know you didn’t, calm down.”

“But I hurt him.”

“You didn’t do anythin’ to him, he just...he ain’t been doin’ well, Roro.”

“...did he get help?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah…”

“So—do you think I could...he should be resting, right?”

“He should be, yeah. So should you.”

Red frowns again.

“But he’d probably wanna visits from ya, Ro-bro.”

“...really?”

“Yeah, he thinks you’re made of funny bones ‘n stuff.”

“...huh?”

“He thinks you’re funny, Ro. I’m sure you think he’s made of funny-fun bones. And other fun bones,  heh–”

“God, Remus!” Red swats at Green’s chest as his cheeks tint pink in embarrassment. 

“You’re always lookin’ at him—”

“Shut up!”

“Like all the time—”

“Oh my stars, shut it!”

Green snickers at his brother as he huffs and swats at him again. It takes a moment for them to ease into comfortable silence. Orange shifts and hovers over to the closet while they’re distracted, seeping through under the door as mist and watching from the crevice between the shut doors. Another glow of light orange glitters amongst the mist as Red laps into thought. 

He—he thinks I’m funny? Does that mean he cares for me in the way I care for him? Would he really like me to visit? Should I—can I have that? Can I go knock on his door and see him answer?

The twirling words of Hope fill the air with a lightness not unlike a blue sky with puffy, white clouds and a bright Sun sitting at its peak. If he would specify, he’d say specifically like the pictures little kids draw in their first grade class. The kind any kid would want to show off to their parents.

“Why you’ve been hidin’, bro-bro?” Green asks, quiet as he runs a hand through Red’s hair. 

Red whines softly before he speaks, “Why do you think?”

Citric on his tongue. Orange eye’s flare amber. 

I’m not enough for them. They don’t like what I am, so I must be the role they want. I can’t be me if all they want is Prince Roman.

“None of ‘em?”

“Jan—” Red winces, stopping himself. “He and Patton would try to lecture me about hiding away and worrying everyone. Virgil tries, but he’s...he tries, I guess. Logan doesn’t like it when I’m dramatic.” 

“Virgil don’t know, do he?” 

“...no.”

“And Lolo ain’t gonna judge ya when you’re hurtin’, Roro. You ain’t bein’ dramatic when you’re upset ‘n hurt.”

“‘S fine,” Red shrugs, shrugs, and something terrible clenches in Green’s chest as his breath hitches. 

“Roro.”

Green shifts as he lays more on top of his brother, squishing him into the mattress. Red slumps fully, finally, under the warm weight of the cephalopod. He squeezes his fidget ball. They end up tangled together, no one could tell whose limb is whose, all wrapped around each other like they were One again. 

The colour Pink flashes in Orange’s mind, but he pushes it away. 

Red’s eyes flutter shut as Green’s hand still runs through his hair, holding the fidget firmly and burrowing it into his chest. He hums, leaning into his brother’s hand. Green waits until he’s sure Red’s breathing evens out before he lets his own eyes shut as well, protectively tightening his hold on the little cardinal. Soft snores start to fill the room, and a few much louder snores follow suit. 

Orange waits.

He watches them twitch as they fall further into sleep.

He exhales as he shifts into his usual form—leather jacket and all–and nudges open the closet door. As he comes out of the closest—heh—he spots the purplish, spiky things on the Prince. The vine-ankets finally shrivel away as Red sleeps, sound and safe in his brother’s hold, the twinkling irises going along with them. Orange smirks at it, glad to see Red’s feeling better enough to not worry while he slumbers. He walks carefully on the soft carpet, his boots leaving little indents that disappear as he goes, trying not to wake the sleeping royals on the grand canopy bed. Orange gazes around the room as he heads to the craft desk. 

Aside from the bed and the desk and the closet, there’s two massive golden-framed windows that look out into a landscape in the Imagination. The scenery probably changes from time to time—depending on Red’s mood—because the Imagination reflects what the Creatives are feeling oftentimes. Today, it seems to have the last remaining sunlight of dusk illuminating the room, wispy clouds and singing stars dressing the darkening sky. Orange light meets blue and red, giving the clouds tinted edges. It’s a beautiful sight, indeed. If you listen closely, you can almost hear the soft chirping of crickets outside the windows. 

Red’s private door to the Imagination—this detailed, red and gold thing with fancy handles and keyholes under them—sits somewhere in the backways of the Prince’s closest. It shimmers and glistens and calls to Red sometimes, in the dead of the night, when he can’t sleep well, tossing and turning irritated as Orange watches him as an eerie mist he couldn’t Hope to name in the dark. It sounds like little bells, ringing softly. Orange can’t quite make out actual words when it ‘speaks’, but he’s seen Red answer its call too many times to dismiss that it may just be something the Creatives understand as parts of Creativity. 

It calls, now, strangely enough, little bells ringing out in the dim light of the room. Red doesn’t stir, not this time, but Green does. He blinks his eyes open, slightly glowing stark red in the growing darkness as his brother rests. He glances over at the closet. He does not notice Orange, for he’s slotted him under the desk as soon as he saw stirring on the bed. The closet door is still ajar, Red’s entrance into the Imagination singing out and shimmering like buzzing fireflies. It takes Green a few minutes to shift—Red stirs at this, but he soon settles—and hums quietly as if to ask the Imagination who do you call to? The Imagination responds in a louder ringing, more frantic. Green frowns, glancing at his sleeping brother. Worry furrows his brow. He presses a light kiss to the crown of Red’s head, hand holding it so tenderly and gently. 

Orange’s eyes flare up into amber again, the small fwoosh quiet enough not to be heard over more of the Imagination’s singing bells. 

They make you feel like you have to hide. They kept hurtin’ you, and you don’t know any different. They’re still hurtin’ you, and you’re wary of anythin’ different.

The scorching words that appear before Orange almost makes him sigh. There’s a lot they need to work on, all of them, but especially when it comes to the little cardinal. They so often forget he’s the Ego, what the Ego really is, and remain in a spiral of their own troubles. They’re too absorbed in a drowning dark sea to realize what they’ve done until long after they’ve done it. Something’s going to happen, something’s has to push before any of them finally come up for air. Before any of them realize there’s six stranded little critters instead of just one. Before they realize the sea they’re drowning in is a Rainbow array of shit to work through. 

In fact, this metaphorical sea has a lot of debris and floating planks of wood any of them could easily grab onto and help themselves up. The buzzing bumblebee tried to get to the surface, but by using other critters instead of bits of trash because everything looks the same in the dark depths of churning, storming waters. Maybe if one of them finally got up to the surface, they’d hoist the Others with them along the way. Maybe they’d see a canary waiting for them, perched on a stray plank of wood with gunky feathers. Maybe they’d see the vibrant bird and ask ‘can we clean your wings?’ instead of setting fire to the plank it sits on. Maybe. One could Hope. Orange knows better, though. He may have a perch but it’s not far above the sea. His body remains wrapped and stuck between strands of twisting kelp—even out of the water, on a tiny wooden island—with hurt wings, with wet feathers, and no other critter sees how dangerous swimming is for others in the darkness of the water. It may be out of the water, but everything from the sea still sticks to the little bird. The canary can only call out in warning. It’s a big part of the reason the sea is so dark and the waters are churning, anyway. It must warn the Others of itself and what it’s done so that they may avoid the same fate as the little bird. 

Orange digresses. 

He shakes himself lightly, focusing back on the Sides present in the room. 

He watches from his spot under the craft desk as the little skunk begrudgingly separates himself from the slumbering cardinal. The poor Prince whines heartbroken and grips his brother tighter so he can’t leave. Green presses apologetic kisses to his forehead. 

“‘S alright, Ro, go back to sleep,” he whispers, “‘M just checkin’ on somethin’, I’ll be back, promise.” 

Red lets out a little whimper, and Green growls lightly in frustration. He’s not mad at his brother, no, Orange doesn’t think the little skunk could ever be mad at the cardinal, but the Imagination twinkles and chimes in urgency and Green growls a little louder. 

This, of course, scares the sleeping Prince as he shrinks away in his slumber. 

“Hey, no, you’re okay, ‘m sorry, it ain’t you, you’re okay, ‘m not mad at ya, Roro, shh,” the Duke mutters as he runs a hand through Red’s hair. 

Red melts a little as he leans into Green’s hand, easing back into a peaceful sleep at the gesture. Green sighs, glancing back at the Imagination’s entrance in the closet. Whatever it’s calling out to Green for must be important for him to try and leave Red for a little while. The royals aren’t exactly joint at the hip, but they’re undoubtedly inseparable in a way that nips at the bottom of their hearts when they’re separated. Orange knows a few tidbits of what they’ve been through because he was there too, in the Before, when forms and critters and weird bouncy shapes were all that were of the Sides. So, yes, he knows. He knows that Green and Red don’t like to separate. 

The Imagination nearly blares in ringing bells, and Green groans quietly as he tears himself away from his sleeping brother. 

Red shifts, gripping his pillow as he frowns and whines at the loss of weighted warmth. He sniffs, shoving as much of himself as he possibly can against blankets and pillows and covers. Green’s chest aches at the sight of the Prince being distraught, but he forces himself to turn his back and steps into the closet, through Red’s private door to the Imagination. He taps the handle, and the keyhole glows white. He steps through. The door shuts behind him. The room is silent, aside from Red’s sleepy breathing. 

A fern sprouts from the keyhole, wrapping itself around the handle. It twitches as it settles around the gold and holds it firm. A message for Red when he wakes. 

Orange slides out from under the craft desk, and he scrubs a hand over his face. Jesus fucking Christ. Okay. Fuck—okay then. He knows he can’t do anything to help Red without risking exposing himself prematurely. He can’t go over and pull a warm, weight blanket over the little cricket because then he could wake up and see Orange, and the elusive arsonist knows for a fact Red wouldn’t react well to a Side he hasn’t even met yet in his room, let alone by his bed as he wakes from sleep. 

So, Orange lets Red be, and turns his attention back to the various projects scattered on the desk. 

A lot of them have notes in red ink written neatly in the margins. Different sections on needing to rework a paragraph here, underlined words that seem odd there, and many other little things like spelling errors that very well could be from Red trying to speedrun through writing because of a time crunch. Some of them look like polished works—minus the red marks—but seem to be labeled as ‘drafts’. A few of them have wet spots on them, sprinkled like dewdrops that make a few of the red marks leak through pages. All of these projects are noted, at the top of the first page, just above the title, as ‘for Thomas’. 

These...these are everything Red’s doing for Rainbow. 

It’s so much, there’s so many of them, there’s so many hastily written words across lined paper and printed paper alike. Have the Others ever glanced at what Red does at his desk? Is this why they demand so much in so little time from their resident writer? Do they have any idea at all? Dear god, it’s—Orange can only gape, half paying attention to any twitch or shift that comes from the bed. 

There’s a project titled Script Draft 2.7 - Thomas’ Next Sides Video. It’s buried under a couple other projects. Orange picks it up with a frown on his face. 

Is this...is this what Red was frantically looking for earlier?

Orange picks it up, and notices a notable amount of red marks on each page. It’s nearly double the amount he spotted on the other projects. It’s—holy shit, it’s so much. Every little thing is critiqued, commented on, the margins overflowing with red red red. 

He stops. 

Among what looks like mostly negative feedback, there are little notes amongst the mess that look kind. Orange reads them, mouthing the words as he goes. It’s all Indigo’s writing, he knows, and he knows Indigo can be harsh sometimes to Red’s work, but...this isn’t that. 

‘A remarkable starting point to this section of the storyline.’

‘Interesting - can we talk about this aspect of the character arc in more depth after our meeting?’

‘The transition flows well from this paragraph to the next.’

‘Humorous, you know how to write jokes into the dialogue well.’

‘Well done, Roman. You’ve done a good job with this part of the script.’

And on and on and on. 

These are from Indigo. Red looks up to Indigo, whether the astrophile knows it or not. The resident writer would flourish if he saw these. 

But they’re written in tiny letters, underneath larger critiques, too hidden to be spotted easily amongst all of the you-need-fix-this. 

Orange sets the script draft atop all the other projects, page open to a particularly heartfelt complement. He spots an orange marker in one of Red’s utensil holders, and he circles it with the citric ink. Putting the marking back, he glances one last time at the little cardinal. 

And he sinks out, knowing he can’t do anymore than he’s already done.

[maharghaideovate]

How DY Patil Prepares Students for the Global Business Environment

Want to dive right into the global business scene? Well, tell you what—this is some crazy ride out there. But with a certain set of skills in your backpack, you can kill it. This is where the DY Patil Distance MBA steps in to help. Let's unpack how this course prepares you for the world stage.

Real-World Skills You Will Pick Up

Imagine you are on a video call with team members from five different countries. It's quite a task, isn't it? The DY Patil Distance MBA will make you adept at handling these situations. You will learn the following:

• How to chat with people all around the globe

• The nuances of global markets

• How to plan business moves at an international level

Cross-Cultural Communication: More Than Just Words 

Picture this: You close a deal in Japan. Instead of shaking hands, you bow, and boy, it makes a great impression right off the bat. That is what learning would look like. The DY Patil Distance MBA teaches one how to read the room, even when that room happens to be on the other side of the world. Keep calm in global team meetings.

Global Markets: Not Just Numbers on a Screen

Ever wondered why a product that's huge in the US is a flop in India? The DY Patil Distance MBA helps you figure out these puzzles. You will get the inside scoop on Spotting Market Trends Before They Blow Up Tweaking Your Business Game Plan for Different Countries Grasping global supply chains—it's not as dull as it sounds, believe me.

Planning for World Domination: The Business Kind

Okay, so maybe not world dominance, but at least world expansion. The DY Patil Distance MBA will teach you how to :

Whip up business plans that work across borders

Work out if a new country is the right one for your business

Navigate the legal maze in different parts of the world

But Wait, There's More!

The DY Patil distance MBA is not restricted to the big three. You are also going to delve into the following subjects:

1. Money Matters: Juggling in different currencies without missing a beat

2. Global Marketing: Because what's cool in California might be a no-go in Cairo.

3.  Leading from Anywhere: Boss moves for managing teams spread across the globe. 4. Tech Talk: Using the latest gadgets and apps to keep on top of your game.

4. Doing Good While Doing Well: Because business isn't about only the bottom line anymore these days.

Real Stories, Real Learning

In the DY Patil Distance MBA, you're not just hitting the books. You'll dive into real stories of businesses that made it big (or flopped) on the world stage: how a fast-food giant had to reconsider its menu for India or how one small startup from Estonia conquered online calls worldwide.

Why does it matter?

The world is getting smaller by the day. That contract you are working on? Maybe your client is in Brazil. Your new team member? He's logging in from Bangkok. With a DY Patil Distance MBA under your belt, you're not just ready for this new world—you're set to rock it.

The DY Patil Difference

What makes the DY Patil Distance MBA stand apart is the fact that it's like getting a backstage pass to the global business world. One does not merely study theories; one gets to know how things work out there. But the best part here is that you can achieve all of this without quitting your day job.

Wrapping It Up

There you go. You aren't looking at a piece of paper to hang on the wall with the DY Patil distance MBA. It's the pathway to playing with the big boys in business all around the world. Be it running a multinational team, launching a product traversing continents, or merely being marked for global projects, this program has got your back. Remember, today, thinking globally is not an option; it's a compulsion. With a DY Patil Distance MBA, you're not only thinking globally; you're prepared to take on the world—one business challenge at a time. Are you ready to give your career a global upgrade?

[piqueconcentration]

Questions That Actually Prompt Conversation

Originally posted April 30, 2023

Moving is hard. Moving is hard for a lot of different reasons, but one of them, and the one that I've been running into most often considering my relatively recent relocation, is making friends. I'm honestly pretty good at it, too- as much as I like the idea of being the strong, silent type, I tend to not shut up nearly enough which is, ironically, one of the best ways to get to know people.

My partner, having been so shy as to be nearly selectively mute for a while, has much more difficulty on that front, even though she goes to school, something that I have decided not to do for the time-being, under-achieving as I am known to be. School, in this case, provides the benefit of the time-honored shortcut to friend-making- going to the same place on a regular schedule (which is honestly the best advice that I can give on this subject; if you go back to some sort of public place daily or weekly, you will eventually make friends).

Regardless, the difficulty in question has impressed upon me of late the importance of being able to make conversation. I'm not talking about "small talk," as poorly-defined as it may be, as those conversations tend to hit the dirt within a few sentences, I mean I've gotten interested in questions that you can ask people that can actively prompt an entire conversation. Kind of a "get-to-know-you" kind of thing, but odd or off-beat enough that it feels less like an interrogation and more of a brainstorm.

Anyway, here are some good ones from the far-reaching depths of my samsung notes app:

(These will be structured with the question in bold above, and my own responses/examples just below.)

______________________________________________________________

1) If you were to create a piece of media/story to reflect certain themes, which themes would they be, and why?

- Love that takes work

- How to live without regrets (without believing in fate)

- Breaking past the barrier of the self (creative resistance, cognitive distortions, time blindness, etc.)

- How cool it is that everyone is interested in different stuff

2) What is a topic that you have a special connection to because you did some sort of academic assignment about it; what did you learn?

- Tapirs

I don't remember too much, but I definitely did a big project about them in elementary school.

- Basking Sharks

How they're rad, giant , and harmless; how they used to travel in gigantic schools of hundreds of individuals; how fishermen got pissed at them because they would get stuck in nets all the time, so the people started putting giant blades on the fronts of their boats and ramming into the sharks, cutting them in half.

- The Satanic Panic and Dungeons & Dragons

I wrote a research paper that I was really proud of about how parents' fear of the roleplaying game in question at the time may have been misplaced concern about mental health issues.

3) What is a topic that you pretend to know less about than you actually do?

- Anime & Video Games

I am insecure and these feel embarrassing- I feel like I need to make sure people know about my personality before they make judgements based on the things I like, and how other people who enjoy similar things may act/be perceived.

- Herpetology (Reptiles & Amphibians) & Wildlife

I have a tendency to just start regurgitating information at a high speed; I need to make sure the others in the conversation are actually receptive to me verbally launching my interests at them.

4) What is something in pop culture that you would change the representation of?

- Committed Relationships

New love/infidelity is romanticized a lot and I think that it encourages dissatisfaction and a "grass-is-always-greener" attitude, I think solid partnerships built on mutual trust and effort should be romanticized more.

The only piece of media that I can think of that kind of does this (albeit imperfectly) is High Fidelity, and I don't like that movie very much.

5) What is something that you would tell your younger self that is only important to you? (Avoid things that would drastically alter your life trajectory)

- "What you think is Generalized Anxiety is actually OCD, what you think is a Depression symptom is actually an ADHD symptom, and it's called 'Executive Dysfunction.' The right people will understand more easily when you call it that."

- "You do not dislike mayonnaise- you like aioli and those two are the same fucking thing, one just sounds better. The bread you're eating with savory sandwiches is too sweet and your parents are not bothered by it, but you are. Switch to sourdough and put olive oil on it."

6) What habits/motions/idiosyncrasies do you notice about your friends/the other people in the conversation?

- My partner does a thing when she plays video games where she scrunches up her face and relaxes it in quick succession. It is adorable.

- A friend of mine will sometimes tilt his head to one side and then the other when he is about to respond to a question.

(This is best when you can imitate the motion or manner of speaking, but be sure that everyone involved is comfortable with the topic, as this can be a sensitive subject for some people.)

7) In what ways are you glad that you're different from how you used to be?

- I've always been really prone to showing off how much I know about specific things, but I used to be way more insufferable about it. Now, I try to be really transparent and genuine about the things that interest me, and practice Intellectual Humility whenever I can.

- I used to be really concerned about my sexuality and making sure my gender identity was solidly masculine. I no longer give a shit, and thank god for that.

8) Which albums were the most influential in your life? What are some memories that you have of them?

- Songs in the Key of Life by Stevie Wonder

- Say I Am You by The Weepies

- Random Access Memories by Daft Punk

- Awaken, My Love by Childish Gambino

9) What are your favorites of the compliments that you've received?

- "I've never once felt judged by you."

- "You make it feel really easy to jump in." (In reference to playing music and improvising)

- "Your sweeping form is impeccable."

10) What crime would you be most likely to be arrested for?

- No comment.

______________________________________________________________

These next ones are bonuses because I did not come up with them, rather I've found them on the internet over the years. The list on my phone is more of a compilation than a canvas:

If anything, what would you change about the way you were raised? - More emphasis on the results of hard work as opposed to talent

- More fluid views on gender

"WAT R UR ADJECTIVES"

Thank you, Skweezy.

Para mi: lanky, nerdy, effeminate, no driver license

What are your tiny hobbies?

- Wire-wrapping rocks and pieces of sea glass for jewelry that may or may not get made; making little wire rings

- Taking cuttings from plants and seeing if I can get them to root

- Finding rocks that I like and putting them in a bag to give out to my friends when they hang out with me

Ideal rocks: ones that fit comfortably in your hand and pocket; soft enough to wear down after a long time of keeping them in your pocket and rubbing them when you need something to do with your hands (I check the hardness); rough enough to feel a difference when they start to get smooth, but not so rough as to be uncomfortable

- carrying around my notebook

- making lists in my phone's notes

Funny animal names

Band/song/album names

Things I like

Gamertag ideas

Story/Fantasy/DnD ideas

Restaurants of whatever area I'm in

Good movies/shows to watch with a group of friends

Websites to return to

Fruits I want to try

Conversation-starter questions

[lonelygamedev]

Devlog 10: Iteration Part 2

So...  been quite busy. I started a trello board for projects I started but never finished. books. programming projects. 3d art projects  video games etc and each month I would try to complete a small amount of projects before I start new one’s and due to trying to finish a few projects I haven’t had enough time to work on the zombie game. after a month or 2 I finally have time and been trying to get into the swing of it. mostly small changes at first but later on some bigger changes. My goal was to add more Depth without adding complexity. Basically Complexity is like the amount of and input’s you have where as depth is the amount you can do with those input’s. which is something I felt like was lacking. The only input I added was a left shift key for healing yourself with a expansive item. Which was a really good idea. allowed for resource management, preparation and longer fight’s. But how to add more depth to the combat? well sorta just thinking I noticed that there aren’t really much choices to the weapons. they sorta just do damage. and other’s might damage enemy armor and while trying to think of a solution to this. I came across the concept of “rock. paper. scissor it“. a piece of advice given out by something called “mental checkpoint“ in a video by “butWhyLevin“. I don’t really watch most of them but it sounded like a good Solution to my game. Basically you make enemys weaker against some attacks more then other’s. Alot of combat system’s do this. from Elemental systems in JRPG’s. Doom’s guns. and DOA fighting system(which if i remember correctly from my brother is very similar). and this means I have more reason to add a variety of guns other then “it shoots really fast“. It allows for experimentation and active thinking when buying. Another thing that I also thought was a good idea was Different Enemy states. so far there is just ‘Knockback‘ and ‘Execution‘. but I wanted more. eventually i came up with 4. ‘Stun‘, stops the enemy for a bit. ‘Stagger‘ which sends the enemy and stops them for a bit. ‘KnockBack‘ which sends the enemy flying. putting all other’s that hits it into a stagger state. and when ended leads to a ‘Knockdown state‘ which is basically just the execution. now the problem comes from adding all theses ideas sense the original health system didn’t allow for attacks with names and was extremely messy. So I had to remove it and Do it all again. adding a new enemy state one at a time and organize it to allow for more variations. that way a Gun enemy responses to a shotgun blast is different then a zombie Right now I got the states finish. With that done I started slowly but surely experimenting Aside from health. Enemies been bugging me with how they moved. They where extremely indecisive. Eventually I created “weights“ which decides why a enemy would go to a point. Like if it as enemys or not. or if it’s close/behind the player. And when standing still it allowed for really cool Behavior. Such as  two gun enemies teaming up for a flank on both sides. But when moving it was just indecisive. 5 feet in a different direction would just make 2 enemies go “Oh I want to be on the other side!“ instead of committing to a plan. and I couldn’t find a way around it for awhile. Around the same time I decided to join the brackeys game jam for another failed project. But for the game I decided to try out Finite state machines for the first time. And I quite enjoy them for how simple compared to behavior trees. and where alot more easy to write. But the tutorial I used also had a method for changing a variable in another class. the person used to change to different states. After that failed I went back to the zombie project and looked at the code. I hated the fact that some behaviors have to contain a reference to a specific class so I can’t reuse the code. So with the new found knowledge of being able to find a variable and change it. I begin to add some new nodes for changing any boolean. int. float etc and see if they’re in a specific state. Another change I made was put movement into it’s own script outside of the AI. with all this I begin changing the entire A.I. getting the zombies to work was easy. The shotgun guy..well that took alot of work. But with a new start I was able to fix alot of the indecisive behavior and flaws. one of which was gun enemies mixing into the crowd. Which I was able to fix by it checking whether or not enemies was nearby and if they where. they move to a point far away. Through I cannot remember how I fix the indecisive. but point is I did it and now the shotguns are actually a danger After that it took quite some time fixing up the enemies(Or I was lazy). during the mean time I still felt like something was missing. Eventually out of random I decided to up the speed of the zombies and the game was instantly alot more fun. It was alot more intense and force me to think and act faster. but thing’s could use a little polish