#fact mag

[legendary-lunatic]

‘Do Not Open’ is still one of my favorite episodes because of this absolute legend. He’s at the top of my list of badass people who survived encounters because they just ain’t with that shit.

An icon.

[wojtekaneko]

That's how it went

[thewaysoundtravels]

time travellers of embodied reactions

[The text below was written whilst listening to the @Factmag mix by Laila Sakini aka @lailasakini and was inspired by a reference to a concept by Ian Williams aka @ianwillwrite in his book Disorientation.]

Fact Magazine · Fact Mix 895: Laila Sakini (Feb '23)

Straddling two different timeframes simultaneously, tracking them both to keep them in step, whilst feeding the present being created into the choices to follow, a link is formed from one to the other. It’s a skill to stand in both moments of being as an usher to them. In watching the present, guiding it forward, the reactions to it are what is being monitored. At the same time, cuing up what will come next, which is always a descendent of what is.

It calls for delicate manoeuvring, balancing the needs of the future against that of the present which must be sustained to make the former possible. There is no direct line between the two, but there are fragments of what’s happening in the DNA of what’s lined up on the horizon of time. This is about being totally in tune with the circumstances of the now to be able to take it to new levels of existence through sourcing elements that will speak to it so as to be able to lead it into unexpected dimensions.

It is always a balancing exercise, for misjudge the point of equilibrium and everything will fall apart in an instant, and spectacularly at that. When that happens, the future that was being prepared becomes a chaos-fuel burning through everything without discrimination. This is the future that is kept at bay with each choice, the risk that drives the fear lurking at the edge of consciousness. It is an instability that must be prevented from materialising, an undesirable guest to be denied admission.

Every decision is a breadcrumb in a journey whose destination can only ever be suspected. When the present collides with planned components crafted to complement it, the results though anticipated are not guaranteed. Each moment must be cautiously monitored to gauge unfolding events against intentions, and where deviation is detected, judgement calls must be made. Proceeding in the hopes of creating a course adjustment is one option, or taking hold of the emerging strand and letting it dictate what comes next is another viable option.

Some like to think preplanning is the answer to mastery of the unknown, but that is a beast that knows no master. Only by responding to the present can the future’s path be seen, but even then only a few moments ahead. Each emerging moment must be read and fed what it requires to be sustainable, an exhilarating situation for always being on the verge of falling apart, it is a phase of frenzied activity requiring concentrated calculated effort. There are those who seek to impose their will upon time, force a sense of order upon it through sheer persistence and force of effort. It is a noble pursuit though somewhat doomed to fail eventually. To be out of sync with what is, means to show little respect for the recipients who have been entrusted into the care of manipulators of mood and energy. Persistence in such a mindset loses the goodwill of the living indicators of success or failure in the shared experience. It should not be forgotten that it is a privilege to be granted the power to be in control. Exercised well, that authority will result in the triple labelled acclaim, accolades and advocates. 

For each who steps to the decks is playing a role with the capacity to break them just as much as it can elevate them to levels akin to that of deities. Every collection of would-be dancers operates according to its own internal logic, which must be detected and worked with to produce a mutually appreciated experience. To every DJ who faces a room of people waiting to be drawn to the dancefloor, take to the task with the care it deserves and may the reign as the one who controls the crowd, be one of joyful engagement.

[goldstarrgrl]

nicholas galitzine’s filmography is truly one of the funniest things i’ve ever seen because it literally goes

1. heartbreaking gay coming of age film

2. cinderella jukebox musical

3. military propaganda

4. gay romcom

5. lesbian fight club film

[go-see-a-starwar]

Christensen opened up on his time in the galaxy far, far away. “It’s been a remarkable experience. And just a very heartwarming one,” he tells Empire. “The journey that I’ve been on with Star Wars over the last 20 plus years... it’s been a wild ride, and where we’re at now is really meaningful to me.” While the backlash against the prequels was difficult to take, he’s pleased to see how beloved all three films are today. “I think that those movies have held up well over time,” he says. “It feels like vindication for the work that we did. Everyone that worked on those movies thought that we were part of something special. We all wanted to do our very best work, and we cared a lot about it. And so to see the response from the fans now, it’s very cool.” That response includes excitement from younger fans – who are always thrilled to meet the man who… well, murdered all the Jedi younglings in Revenge Of The Sith. “There was a lot of talk about us doing that scene, and I love that George did it. It was a bold move. And it’s shocking,” the actor says. “Kids seem to forget about that scene when they meet me! There’s not any fear or intimidation. They’re just excited to meet Anakin.” Having ridden out the stormy reception to the prequels – and returned to the Star Wars galaxy in recent years for appearances in Obi-Wan Kenobi and Ahsoka – Christensen reflected on the advice that he would give to his younger self before stepping into Attack Of The Clones. “Even though I was a bit overwhelmed, I was also a confident young man, and I wanted to make my mark. But I guess if I were to have some advice for me during that general time in my life, it would be: ‘Patience’,” he decides. “Because my journey with the character and with Star Wars has at times been a bumpy one... but I’m in a good place with it now. And so that’s why I say patience.” In 2024, there’s undoubtedly balance to the Force.

Excerpt of Hayden Christensen’s interview with Empire Magazine for its Prequels’ 25th Anniversary special issue

[piassportjacke]

Pias Jacken

[sonarsunbeam]

brief respite

[thebubblesoutlet]

And when the world needed her the most, SHE RETURNED!!

[veinsfullofstars]

✨ The wizard and the jester ✨

(ID: Kirby series fanart sketches of Marx and Magolor in humanized form, with some Marxolor shenanigans tossed in for funsies, plus one guest appearance by Kirby. More detailed descriptions in Alt Text. END ID)

Sketches started some time in 2021, finished 10/28/24.

[ceragolor]

I haven't drawn my boy in so long wonder what I will conjure- oh it's The Horrors again.

[daily-tma]

Daily TMA 119 (TMAGP) - But what if she was the distortion :)

[redplanetlobster]

You know, for someone who has struggled writing essays even in grade school, I could truly write a dissertation on how Jmart didn't actually come out of left field, was truly always there, and how the arc actually makes a lot of sense for the characters and the medium of the story with how much I've been ranting to myself about it.

[syb-rooks]

I've been listening to the magnus archives and rip riz gukgak you would have loved/hated the eye

[zvarricopter]

did i ever share this gwynplaine (even if i did i'm reposting it bc i love him)

[venture-through-the-mist]

The Devil Never Slumbers

Operator Mag can’t sleep. She decides to visit the Sanctum Anatomica. Or rather, she decides to visit her mother.

TW: None.

The fic begins under the cut. I hope y’all enjoy!

I rub at my eyes tiredly as my ship lands inconspicuously near the Necralisk. It’s…so quiet. Quiet as I slink unnoticed through the halls, past the slumbering Entrati. Quiet as I slip into the tunnels that lead to the Sanctum, tunnels walked by many, but nearly deserted now. My footsteps tread lightly on the gilded floor, careful not to wake the fish, who’s mumbling haughtily in his sleep. Nor do I disturb the massive bird, nestled comfortably in his golden cage, nor the Cervulite, curled up near the entrance to the labs, though the tip of his tail twitches slightly before moving to rest atop his muzzle. No, none of them notice my presence. None, except the faithful assistant. We share a glance, exchanging words with merely a look. The exhaustion in his eyes is the very same as that which wraps itself around my bones, the very same heaviness that weighs me down but doesn’t allow me to rest. His gaze shifts to an empty space at his workbench. An invitation. One that I don’t take. Perhaps he and I could bask in our misery together. Perhaps I could even fall asleep if I simply focus on his methodical progress, the ambient scratching of pencil to paper. But, that’s not why I’m here.

And he knows it.

We reach a silent understanding, realization flashing in his weary eyes. One corner of my mouth turns upward in a soft half-smile, and he returns the look, adjusting the edge of his glasses as he does so. I continue my path, feeling the soft sands of the dunes beneath my feet. There’s no need for a Warframe out here. I hadn’t wanted to bring one anyways. I take a deep breath, my lungs filling with the still air, my senses taking in the subtle stimuli, those which I would’ve missed if I were inside that metallic suit. My ears take in the soft singing that I knew I’d hear eventually. As the dunes give way to stone, as the edge of the cliff becomes visible through the fog of the Void, I see her. I don’t say anything to disturb her vigil. I simply lower myself to the rocky ground, a few feet behind her, but enough to the side that I can see what she sees. I can see the Void, the broken, floating pieces of rubble, the glowing, gaping maw that seems poised to devour us all. She knows I’m here, even before she shifts her head slightly—likely the smallest amount she can turn in order to see me—, but her singing doesn’t falter. It can’t, I know that now. Rather, it mustn’t. 

We don’t speak, but I feel an understanding lingering in the air. One beyond words, one that has stood the test of time, of loyalties, of love. A test that has led us here, to the cliff. To the emptiness that stretches beyond its rocky edges. In the past, we had many titles. The future will bring many more. But for now, right here, we’re simply Mother and Daughter. She isn’t the Sentient, the Daughter, the Leader. I’m not the Tenno, the Soldier, the Devil. Not here. Not now. We’re simply two beings, not linked by blood but family nonetheless, solemnly staring across the Void. I allow myself to listen to her song. It’s different now…but no less comforting. The lullaby once used to comfort her children, now being used to tether herself to the present. The weight of my exhaustion gnaws at me, but my eyes don’t drift shut. My gaze remains fixed, staring straight ahead.

I don’t know how long I stay there, though eventually more Tenno begin to filter in, sitting quietly near us. Some stay for only a moment or two. Others remain longer. I find myself almost fascinated by them. As different as we all might be, as unruly, or hotheaded, or impulsive, most of us have one thing in common. Sometimes, we just want our Mother. When the world seems strange—too strange, even for us—, she’s who we turn to. She might be different now—she’s clearly distracted, and more than a little uncomfortable—, but she’s determined. She’s a calming presence, even when her own mind is likely less than serene.

Maybe that’s why I’m here. Maybe that’s why, after tossing and turning and trying and failing to rest, my weary hands keyed in coordinates that I barely read before the Orbiter began its course. Maybe, even if I can’t sleep right now, I can still rest. I can still let my thoughts still as I stare out into the empty fog, listening to her unending song. Tomorrow, I can be the Soldier once more. Tomorrow, I can be the System’s ‘Devil’. But tonight? Tonight, I just want to be a daughter. I want to spend time with her—even if it’s only a moment—, time that’s unimpeded by thoughts of the conflict that looms over us. I just…don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to hear It laughing, amused by the torment It causes.

I take a quiet breath, and my eyelids fall shut. I can still hear the others, though their voices seem like mere background noise. I focus on the song, allowing myself to relax into this odd half-asleep state. Eventually, though it seems far too soon, I open my eyes once more. I slowly rise to my feet, a silent farewell crossing through my mind. I’ll be back. She knows, I’m sure. At least…I hope so. My limbs feel only slightly lighter as I make my way across the dunes. Even still, they should be light enough that I can fight once more.

[jevilowo]

TOP 5 NON (mostly) LORE RELATED MYSTERIES OF TF2

Pyro genuinely disappeared from the plot for most of Blood in the water. Heavy and Scout were at Ayers Rock, Spy, Solly and Zhanna were in what I think is Sydney, and Ms Pauling, Demo and Sniper were in Adelaide. Where the fuck was Pyro. Where did my precious beast go.

Why doesn't Mags (australian) have a moustache (presumably due to Australium depletion but never confirmed) (or maybe she isnt actually australian? You know they never actually stated she was...).

Why did the MANN CO crate that had Soldier and Sniper clothes in it also have Zhanna clothes in it (in the naked and the dead).

IS BESTRALIUM REAL (see "gallery" on the doomsday map page, it seems to be a failed substitute australium) AND WILL IT BE RELEVANT IN COMIC 7.

Why did Saxton Hale kill the Italian President (see manniversary update).