#i don't know how to describe it but they look so cool

[elucubrare]

@idionkisson said, re: my very last tag, if you wanted to share any more mean thoughts about this tendency vs. the way people talk about AI art, yk, just sayin, i'd love to read em 👀

DISCLAIMER: I don't think the current usage of AI art is good. I think it further contributes to the devaluation of the artist's intent. that said, the thesis of this post is that there was a strong anti-intellectual and anti-academy vein of thought that prepared the way for the view that AI art is a full replacement for human-made art.

so, there was an age of the internet where every other tumblr post, it seemed, was about how this artistic-looking thing had happened "accidentally" or was done by an amateur, or described an artist with a decent amount of recognition and respect in the art world as "this guy," as in "this guy spent a year making a map that is the territory" - the one i'm immediately able to find is this crystalized book, by the artist Catherine McEver.

it went viral on tumblr as "a book that fell into the ocean" (and on facebook as "an ancient bible that's still readable", which is v. funny because that book is clearly less than a hundred years old, and i would warrant less than 10). there was also a really cool artwork with less easily googable keywords - someone (eta: thanks to @zukriuchen it's Brian Fanner) made a beehive with internal structuring so that it would look like a heart when opened, which people posted as "a beehive that went back to nature" or something. this supposedly accidental production of works that evoke emotion in the viewer was contrasted to "modern art", which was viewed as sterile, emotionless, overly intellectual, and inaccessible. Only that which Nature creates, or which people create accidentally or without study is "true art".

to some extent, this is a reaction to the way art, especially making money in art, has become genuinely inaccessible - much studio art is taking part in a really long conversation that you could probably trace back to the walls of Lascaux if you wanted, and it is really hard to make your way as a working artist.

(NOTE i am not going to say "due to capitalism" here - the way you could make your way as a working artist without being born rich in the Renaissance was "being adopted as a pet artist by a nobleman" or "getting commissions from the Church" and in the 18th and 19th centuries it was "selling portraits to rich people" or "making a whole bunch of sentimental prints that sold well". we are not well-served by inventing past utopias.)

but that, combined with a shallow reading of the death of the author (not "the author's point of view on their own work is a single reading & not necessarily the most valid one" but "the only thing in a work is what any individual reader sees there"), ends up valorizing things the author "didn't see" in a work ("did they know how funny this is????" about a deliberate contrast in tone in a scene is part of this too), because it allows the reader to feel smarter than the author - they just put down the proceedings of their soul, the reader decodes it and finds the truth!

So, to return to AI. AI art does not have the same intentional choices behind it as human-made art. i won't argue that. but there are AI pieces that get reblogged without people knowing, with tags that indicate that it made the reblogger feel something, and then as soon as they find out that it's AI they decry it as soulless. but didn't it make you feel something, before you knew it was AI? is there a difference, in the initial experience, all arguments about copyright aside, between a computer randomly collecting billions of bits and outputting an image and "this guy put ink on ants' feet, what they created will amaze you"? both of them are art without intent.

again, I am arguing purely on an experiential level. there are ethical concerns about AI art, and functionally, there IS still a human actor who thought of putting ink on those ants; ant-foot art is not going to take over the internet. still, it's extremely jarring, after years of reading people downplay artists' skill, intent, and years of study, often phrased as an attack on the "fake" art world, to read them now talk about how the artist's intent and experience is paramount.

there's this horrible school of attempted literary criticism on here that holds that 1. everything in any given author's work is autobiographical, especially if it seems "real" and 2. those themes seeped into the work subconsciously, revealing something about the author that they're either trying to hide or unaware of themself. it drives me up a wall, since it seems to deny the fundamental skills that make people good writers: the empathy to imagine and portray experiences that one hasn't had oneself and the ability to take one's personal emotional experiences or worldview and fold them, consciously, into the unworked clay of a narrative.

[bugg-bonez]

Idgaf how this is a vent piece of my source IT ENDED UP LOOKING REALLY COOL. SO IT'S GOING ONLINE.

I usually limit the vents I post here or just don't at all because. It's the internet. But vent ART is a WHOLE NEW SITUATION. Also what do you mean I have an entire tag for whenever I'm joking about my trauma. No I don't. What're you talking about.(/j/sil)

ANYHOO ART TIME WHOOPEE

I shall describe my thought process below because I was BORN AND BRED TO YAP AND IT WON'T STOP NOW!!!

The red is constellations, and the lyrics to the song "Minor Holiday" stylised to look like constellations as well. I tried to include every held item like the weapons, accessories and keys, but I'm sure I forgot something. The only held item I included that isn't involved with battle is the Porcelain Doll because it brings me joy-

There are two change gods in the sides, to be honest I don't know why I added them? Whenever I draw it's just me zoning out for hours on end until it's done so they just appeared and I went with it-

Also the Siffrin in the art is me, so that's why it has things the canon sif doesn't (like bird talons n a tail, very similar to Critter Siffrin, the son of Hero and Princess AU so ermmm)

Hope y'all like ittt :3

[rwshfordgirl]

"YOU ARE VERY BEAUTIFUL."

all images were taken from pinterest.

where they meet for the first time.

pairing: omar marmoush x reader!

a/n: i really hope you like it <3! i won't be able to post tomorrow, so I brought the post forward to today, only two numbers left. let me know if you want a continuation of this story.

𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

"You can wait for him here." A City official took me to a waiting room on the club grounds. "Thank you!" I said as I sat down in one of the available chairs, observing the environment around me.

My brother is about to sign a contract with the Manchester City youth team, something that has made me cry every day since he told me. It's not that I don't want him to play here, that wouldn't be a problem, I'm not a football person. I only cry because I'm proud of my brother, I cry because I'm proud of him because I know how hard he worked to get to a club like this.

"Marmoush, man!" My brother was walking towards me when he met a man in the middle of the road, judging by his clothing, he must be a player like him. "My little brother, How are you? I'm happy to know that I'll be sharing the training center with a familiar face." My brother received a pat on the shoulder. "You'll see, next season I'll be playing with you, by your side." my brother smiled.

George's eyes, my dear brother, finally meet mine. "Oh, come on Omar! Let me introduce you to my sister." He said, pointing at me and then walking towards me. And I could see the face of the man he was talking to. I have no words to describe what I was seeing, I felt my heart skip a beat when that man looked at me.

I would say that his picture should be shown when people ask the meaning of the word beauty. The almond-shaped eyes, the curly hair, the tanned skin... I swallowed hard when he stopped in front of me and smiled.

"Marmoush, this is my sister and little sister, this is Marmoush the Egyptian legend." Marmoush extended his hand to shake mine, my eyes slowly moving from his face to his hand. "Are you the older brother?" he asked George. "It's just me and her, and she's older."  The player nodded and turned his gaze to me again, I had already let go of his hand.

"George, can you come here please?" Someone from the club called my brother back to the small room where he was before. "I'll wait for you here, mate! I want to talk to you." Marmoush said as he sat down in the available chair next to me, my brother just nodded and walked into the room.

I swallowed again as the Egyptian smiled at me again. "Did you live with him back in Dortmund?" He questioned. "Yes, I've lived in Germany since before he was born." I explained, it was the first time I'd opened my mouth since the minute he appeared in front of me. "Cool, I met him there! I  played for Frankfurt until a month ago, you brother is a good kid." He said "My mother educated us very well." I joked. "Are you going to live here with him too?" he questioned once more. "I don't know yet, I'll have to ask for a job transfer if my mother can't move here with him." He nodded "But don't worry, I'll take care of your brother! I'll get him in line." he made me laugh "I'll be grateful."

My mom texted me to ask how things were going. I told her he was still undergoing medical exams and that I would send her a photo as soon as he went to the office to sign the contract. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Omar also playing with his phone.

"Do you have any recommendations for a good restaurant around here, would you like to have dinner out tonight?" He broke the silence "Look, last night I went to a really good one near the hotel we're staying at, I just don't remember the name, but I can look it up for you." he nodded "But I think it will be a little difficult to find an empty restaurant on Valentine's Day, but try calling to make a reservation." he grimaced "I had forgotten what day it was." I chuckled "Your girlfriend will be upset with you." I assume this man is not single, someone like him is hardly ever alone "I don't have a girlfriend, I'll have to have dinner alone today." I was wrong. "I understand you." He looked at me a little surprised and smiled.

"What? Why did you make that face?" I asked in a relaxed tone."I thought you weren't single." I raised an eyebrow. "Why?" I asked. "You are very beautiful." I was speechless. My brother left the room and I didn't even see him, I remained motionless in the chair, mentally repeating what Marmoush had told me. "Let's have dinner together sometime." Marmoush's voice talking to my brother snapped me out of my trance. "Just text me." he replied. "Okay, and don't forget to bring your sister?" My brother looked at him suspiciously. "Okay, I doubt she'll go but okay."

Marmoush said goodbye to us and headed toward another hallway. My brother noticed that I was acting weird and started asking me a million questions, but I had to hide it by saying that I was excited about his achievement, which wasn't a lie. But Marmoush messed with my head.

A notification arrived on my cell phone, I thought it was my mother, but it was a notification from Instagram, "you have a new follower." Omar Marmoush just followed me.

I will definitely have to see this man again.

[shrewmingledotcom]

got a role in a school play as one of the main characters and the person who plays the love interest is mad pretty oh my goddd

[nightingale-prompts]

The thing in the graveyard was called "The Lover" (Harlot it too mean)

Despite what the stories say he rarely appeared. Tourists and armature ghost hunters have tried to capitalize on the popularity of the trend. A sort of fandom formed for those who guessed about the appearance and origin of the supposed ghost.

Truly to only people who saw him were lonely. The lover would appear to them as a young and beautiful young man. He didn't attack and only sometimes did he try to convince you to leave with him. Other times he'd just sit with you and listen. He'd lean on your shoulder. He'd cry for you. Anything that could ease your pain.

You couldn't film the encounters and no one could describe him in detail.

Tim wanted to investigate this. He researched every story he could find of the ghost. Some stories said he was the spirit of a man abandoned by his partner and others said he was a demon that seduces mortals to drag them to hell. Tim gathered that The Lover only comes when you are alone, arrive after midnight and come on a moonless night.

Tim chose the right date and time as he entered the iron gates.

It was a desolate walk, like walking into nowhere. Until he felt a pair of arms wrap around him. They were cool to the touch. A weight pressed against his back.

"You finally came for me." A warm voice echoed in the silence.

The sounds of wings fluttered and beat in the distance.

Tim stilled. It's him.

Tim pulled away and turned to see the fabled "Lover". And he was everything described and more. He seemed to glow in the lantern light that Tim had prepared.

"What do you mean?" Tim asked.

He steeled his nerves whatever happened next he shouldn't let the ghost use him to escape. Every time so far the victim has run away.

"You are one of her knights. You must be here to free me." He said with a soft smile as he hugged Tim tightly. "I'm so glad it over. Thank you. Thank you so much."

"I don't know what you're talking about who's knight?" Tim asked unhooking his arms and feeling how solid they were and not ghostly at all.

Tim wreaked his brain to figure out if this ghost was mixing up something from hundreds of years ago. Maybe during the rule of the queen in colonial times? No, that didn't make sense either.

"It doesn't matter. You're here now. And we can leave." His smiled only faltered for a moment but it soon returned as he excitedly grabbed Tim's hand.

"Where do you plan on going?" Tim asked trying to ignore the way the boy looked at him like he was his savior.

"Home...I want to go home." He said sadly. "I don't belong here."

"You're a ghost. Shouldn't you stay here and rest?"

"I'm not dead!" He yelled pushing close to Tim "I'm alive! I swear! Can't you feel me?! I'm real!"

Suddenly Tim felt a pain of lips on his. They were cold but...soft. I'm pushed the boy away quickly.

"Stop that! What are you doing?" Tim yelled.

The ghost boy clenched his jaw as he was shoved away. His eyes were wide as he was caught off guard.

"That...usually worked. Guys usually listen when they think they will get something out of this." His voice was cold and bitter.

"So you really think I'll let you leave if you kiss me?!" Tim said incredulously.

The ghost's expression twisted in confusion.

"I don't have anything else to give. I just...want to leave. I'll do anything. No one will listen to me." Tears filled his eyes as he spoke.

The graveyard was deathly quiet again.

"Are you going to leave me here too?" A sob broke out as he spoke. "I can't last much longer. And she let you come here. So she must have forgiven me. She'll let me go if you let me out."

Tim saw the pain in the ghost's eyes and he did something stupid. He reached out and hugged him. A real hug. The kind his emotionally constipated family rarely gave. It was probably the only affection the ghost boy was given that wasn't forced or initiated by him.

Tim was still unsure if he should go through with this. He wanted answers but now only one question was on his mind.

"What's your name?"

"Danny....my name is Danny."

Kiss of Death- DCxDP prompt

A valentine horror.

Didn't matter why you were there or why you didn't run.

There was a graveyard older than Gotham itself. The names on the grave are weathered and unreadable from hundreds of years of exposure. The only reason one should come here was if you had managed to track your heritage to this gravesight after searching museum archives for burial records since the city wouldn't keep ones so old in the government building.

Unless...

You came because of the legend.

It's a new one. So it's more of an urban legend.

The story goes that the graveyard is haunted and a that anyone who comes here late at night will die. It's a simple legend, a very cliche and uncreative one at that.

But here you are. What was your goal? Ghost hunting? Graverobbing? Or perhaps your curiosity had consumed you and you had to know.

The air was thick. Like you are slowly choking on the darkness around you. Have you ever been in a room so quiet it was deafening? Like you are sure you must have lost your hearing because not even the wind would greet your ears. It was just empty space that wordlessly told you that you are alone. But that was just a room. A room that you leave and find solace in a trip of a light switch. This however was no room. It was the wide expanse of the outside world. In a place where streetlamps were not even a flicker in the minds of the residents that rest deep below your feet.

You chose a bad time to come. Perhaps you would be spared the wondering in the dark if you had the forgiving light of the moon on you. But such things were an afterthought, wasn't it? No tonight the moon was shadowed and the light of the stars would be your only salvation...but this was still Gotham. Could their light even reach you with the distant city lights over the horizon? Could the clouds mercifully move out of the way to give you some hope that you were not abandoned?

Now you were ill-prepared but you must have had some sense to at least charge your phone before you came. It's flashlight might be enough to get you back. But you're come this far. Brave or foolish you continue forward.

Until someone approached. You couldn't see them, only hear the muted footfalls of something coming near. Your ears so starved for sensation drank it like water in a dessert.

And in the light of your torch, a face appeared. A pair of baby blue eyes simmered in the light. A relieved smile on a pair of soft pale pink lips. A young man with tousled black locks appearing holding a small arm full of lilies and tulips.

"Finally, someone else. I thought I'd be here till morning." He said in relief as he came closer.

"What are you doing here?" You ask surprised that you weren't the only person here.

"I was cleaning the graves here and I must have lost track of time. Can you lead me out of here?" He asked softly and you'd hit yourself if you said no.

He clung to your arm as you walked him down the path.

The air began to get colder.

Where there was once silence you hearabout d the sound of crows beating their wings and making their wretched calls.

He clung harder to you.

That horrible curiosity got the better of you and so you began to speak.

"Why were you out here cleaning graves anyways." You asked.

"I was...helping. I come here alot." He said simply.

Nevermind the fact he was not dressed in clothes fit for cleaning. His white button-up shirt and dress pants were not something you get dirty. In fact, he didn't have a fleck of dirt on him.

"Where are your supplies?" You ask.

"I left them behind. I'll come back for them." He said curtly.

His grip on your arm tightened and it got colder.

"Just stay close please. I don't want to lose you in this darkness." He cooed.

You begin to feel lightheaded. The cold damp air made it hard to breathe.

You hear the crows...no ravens call out again.

"Never leave!" They repeated

"Trapped!" They called.

You hear a growl come from those pink lips, only they weren't pink anymore.

You look down at your companion and see a pair of bloody lips and a smile curled into a cruel but somehow sweet smile. A pair of glowing acidic green eyes that narrowed into pinpricks like a bird locking onto its prey. His once soft ebony lock now as stark white as snow caps.

You try to pull away but their grasp crushed your arm, hands like icy claws dug in.

" Where are you going?" He asked calm his eyes baring into yours.

Suddenly he did look very scary. No, he looked...so sad...so helpless and lost. His eyes where so warm and inviting.

"Don't leave me here. Help me. I promise I'll make it worth your while." His smile was so warm and inviting.

"Leave!" The ravens screeched.

"Run!" They called.

Even the screaming of the birds where drowned out as he pressed his lips to yours. It was too late. The sickly sweet scent of death and flowers filled your senses.

Why though, was his lips so cold? Why did they fill his mouth with the coppery taste of blood? Why did you feel so empty in the space you had hoped he'd fill in your heart?

But then a sharp pain struck your head and the warm trickle of blood flowed from your wound as a bird flew over your head.

You pulled away from the cloying embraces you perked in pain. And then you saw it. His face half half-rotted and skeletal. The once handsome man was a monster.

You sprinted away from him trying to frantically call someone for help on your phone. But foolish one had you forgotten. Your phone is also your flashlight and as you tried to use it you could only run blindly in the dark hoping you were still on the path. The sound of wind slicked the air behind you as you felt his icy breath on the back of your neck. You could only guess what was behind you as you heard no footsteps behind you only the feeling of being chased.

You dared not stop not even a moment and prayed that you didn't stumble. But mercy had found you as you saw the gate come into view and the solitary streetlight just beyond the boarder.

"You said you'd get me out! You can't leave me here!" A bloodcurdling screech rang out.

But you had already won as you made it out just barely with the graze of clawed fingertips at the back of your neck.

You closed the gate behind you and as you gazed into the dark abyss beyond the metal barrier you half expected it to be there. For it to snarl at you in anger watching you leave or slamming itself at the gate. But there was nothing. Not even the wind.

[shalom-iamcominghome]

As I've gotten deeper in conversion, I have increasingly imagined jewish life throughout time. And what I mean by that is...

So when I looked at the Western Wall before this (maybe a few years ago), I just saw a wall. It held no deeper meaning than that. I imagined nothing when I saw that.

But now when I look at the wall or even when I'm praying idly, I'm imagining myself in the temple when it stood there. It's bright outside - a summer day so bright, I think the temple will blind me. A soft wind surrounds me. I'm stood in the middle of a huge crowd of people, simply observing. Women pass by me in small crowds, laughing and talking. Some of these women are wrangling their small children who keep running away, laughing like it's a game. And men walk by smelling of spices. The air is light, the city around bustling with people living fulfilling, meaningful jewish life. The wall now symbolizes that jewish life, and even though it's not just about the temple when I imagine it, it means something to me.

I think that's the result of seeing myself in judaism, turning the "you" into a "we," and I feel about this what I must imagine a married couple feels.

[sysig]

Cards 👏 cards 👏 cards 👏 (Patreon)

[creative-hanyou-girl]

I don't know if anyone else feels this way but I think a big reason why I'm so chill about the changes made to the PJO show from the books is because I kind of look at each other as their own seperate canon.

Like, I read a lot of anime and manga, and anime adaptations have a huge habit for changing plot points for various reasons, and as a fan of said anime and manga, I've found that I can enjoy both versions of the same story even with the differences when I look at them as their own universe or canon. That's not to say I don't want them to be faithful or true to the source material, but if a scene or situation plays out differently for a logical or entertaining reason, than I can still appreciate that deviation from the manga even if I still like the other original version of that part more. And I can even like the reversal way if I feel an anime does something better than even the manga. But if I want to, I can look at certain moments as more canon than others because I got 2 different versions of that same scene or moment.

And, I don't know, I kind of apply that reasoning to the PJO series as well, mainly with the books, the show, and even the musical (not the movies put that right back where it came from). So far I'm loving the TV show, and while I miss some of the things they changed (like the pink poodle), this adaptation really is doing a great job with staying true to the heart and spirit of the original book that I personally am not even really bothered by the changes, especially when I remember that the books will always still be there with it's own version, or canon, of events.

Like, I will say 1 thing I adore in the books that isn't really in the show is the fact that a lot of Percy and Annabeth's "rivalry" during TLT has more to do with the rivalry between Poseidon and Athena. I just really like on how this adds a level of "forbidden friendship/love" to their relationship 'cause I personally eat the forbidden relationship trope up, especially when it's done well like with Percabeth.

Yet, even if this isn't really the reason percabeth have beef with each other in the show, I can still appreciate and enjoy that according to the show's canon, they have issues because they genuinely have problems with each other as actual people rather than their parents' rivalry, because at the end of the day, that's the PJO TV show canon, and I can always turn to the books for that version of Percabeth's "rivalry", as that is the PJO book canon.

Same goes for the characters too. I will always have and love my dark haired Percy and blond haired Annabeth in the books, but I can also welcome and love Walker's Percy and Leah's Annabeth from the show. And so far, they along with Aryan are KILLING IT as those characters.

I can love both versions of the characters.

I can love both versions of the same story.

I can look at both versions as they own seperate canon or mix them together if I so wish too (especially since both versions of PJO are written by the same guy)

And that's ok. The adaptation doesn't have to be a complete copy of the books. It doesn't have to have things play out eactly the same way. The characters don't have to look exactly the way they are described as in the books. And that's ok. I will still always have the books to love and appreciate, but I can also start to love and appreciate the new adaptation for it's new spin and twists to the same story that sets it apart as it's own canon while still staying true to the spirit of its predecessor.

Anyway, sorry if I'm not making a lot of sense. I just think the people complaining about the changes in the show are looking at it all the wrong way. The show has it's own canon just as the books have their own canon, or even the musical. At the end of the day, isn't that kind of cool to have different versions of the same story and characters? Doesn't it give you so many more options to look at the story in different ways that you can prefer or choose from? Doesn't it give you new versions of canon that you choose from? And really, as long as the PJO adaptation, or any adaptation for that matter, stays true to the heart and spirit of the original story and characters, do the changes made really matter?

[ageofkarme]

Karme was so certain that he'd have to try harder to convince Polaris to sculpt him with a scythe that he didn't realize what the heavy pole was for at first. The realization hit him and he started buzzing. "Is this for my death scythe? I'm gonna look so cool! How big can we make it because I met the Dior once and he made me one with lots and lots of blades on it and that mockup was awesome and we could do something like that and I can even try to pose with it in different angles so maybe the sculpture looks like it has some motion and—

In any other situation, Karme would've gone on for much longer than he did. His brain was always jumping ahead and fixating on random details, so he missed what Polaris was doing for a few moments. Firm hands on his body manipulating his form like clay, the heat of the other's proximity and the intense focus that was nearly palpable hit Karme all at once, too, clipping his rambling off as he unconsciously held his breath. The quiet felt heavy, but he was mesmerized by watching Polaris amid his creative process. Karme didn't want to interfere.

He exhaled only after he heard the word 'perfect'. A simple word that he never heard to describe himself, he suddenly felt exposed on the stand in a way that warmed him. "Sorry, I probably shouldn't give unsolicited input, huh?" he concedes with a chuckle, stepping down and carefully setting the pole aside. Karme wanted to swing it around, but he could think of a number of ways that might go wrong. "Especially not since I want to see how I look through your eyes. I don't know, it'd be cool. And I'd get the best seat in the house when we actually start. I'll practice standing still … starting tomorrow. I'm too excited to see all your sculptures to chill out now!"

One of many of Polaris's burgeoning guilty pleasures was watching the other gather up some courage, only for it to dissolve into a litany of blunderous half-spoken words. He'd spare Karme any further disintegration, at least for a few short moments.

Every time someone said their best side, Polaris found a correction that needed to be made. Looking around as Karme flopped around and called it posing, he found a long pole that the other could hold. Karme was adamant he should have a scythe but the pole was a good stand-in for whatever Polaris inevitably decided to place in the witch's hand. "Here-" He said, "hold this," Polaris stepped onto the raised platform and moved to stand behind the other, maneuvering the man's frame in the following ways: tilting his head back, pressing a hand to Karme's chest while the other found the small of his back, moving his arm, lowering one shoulder - kicking out one foot to slightly bend the knee.

Polaris appraised every line, holding his own posture as he traced the other's body with his eyes while hovering in Karme's atmosphere. The sculptor abandoned personal space some time ago, now every time he breathed he could smell the enthusiasm coming off the witch in waves. "There." Polaris stated with some finality before he took a step back, stepped down, and looked up at Karme. "Perfect." Polaris undid the buttons on his overcoat before shrugging it off, rolling his sleeves as he'd done in the other's workshop. He smiled, then gestured with his chin - Gods knew he wasn't going to start working tonight. "You can come down now."

[californiaquail]

well boss said reese has no indication of any uti or crystals only a tiny amount of red blood cells which can be caused by the manual expression. coworker insisted there was no point in taking rads to see if he's blocked from the string so going to try some laxaire and hope 😬🤞🏻also then my boss gave me a ride to the bus stop so i didn't have to carry the huge crate which was uncharacteristically nice of him 🤨

[pa-pa-plasma]

genuinely not kidding when I say that Tears of the Kingdom is not only a bad Zelda game, it's just a bad game in general. it's inaccessible to casual gamers who previously could play Zelda games because of their structure. there is virtually no plot, & what little plot there is sucks ass, is predictable in a bad way, & doesn't make any fucking sense, with the absolute lack of emotional reactions from the characters making it all the worse. the references are only there to distract from the absolute nothingness, despite a main timeline Zelda title being the perfect game to have them as a type of storytelling (what happened to Skyloft??). the sky islands are just rocks with nothing on them except fruit, or maybe a chest if you're lucky. the underground is a walking in the dark simulator. the overworld is the exact same shit as in Breath of the Wild & I already explored that twice so why do it again. the caves are pointless. they didn't add much to the game besides that (the shrines & towers are just reskinned, do not fool yourself) & what they did add is just more sidequests to fill the gaps between the bits of non-existent plot. the dungeons suck. the boss battles are okay which is just sad for a Zelda game. it's just a $90 DLC & if that doesn't explain why I'm so mad about this idk what the fuck will. maybe the fact that this "new formula" is a severe step down from the old one, where you had an actual full fucking puzzle game to play with an actual fucking characters & a story that wasn't just more MCU "cameo! reference!!" bullshit

[tvckerwash]

do yall ever think about how weird wash's fight scene in s12 is? specifically, that moment where he does that sideways flip while shooting (I believe) at felix? like wash is an enjoyer of combat rolls, my man is always rolling, but that one flip is a flashy, and dare I say, unnecessary move for wash to use.

I also find it interesting that they had him use his sidearm instead of his battle rifle, since in previous cqc situations wash has always used blades or blade like objects such as the epsilon unit. the only times I recall him using a magnum off the top of my head is when he shot south in s6, when he shot donut in s8, and when he threatened carolina in s10. if wash busting out his magnum, it's always symbolic of him letting some part of his personal feelings guide his actions, because shooting someone with a sidearm meant for close range is more intimate than using his primary mid/long range weapon.

this was obviously not the case in the s12 fight, and they probably did it just because it looked cool, but idk that's my random wash thought of the day.

[dootznbootz]

opinions on helen of sparta being compared to prey animals? blink blink

*blink blinks back* Then immediately sits like this because of the question.

It's a good question that I'm happy to answer! It just makes me mad.... I sincerely hate the wording of "prey" being used to describe her.

SHE IS A VICTIM! THAT DOES NOT MEAN SHE IS "PREY"!

I can...see how people in ancient times may have used that word and still meant it in how she is a victim... but modern-day English-speaking people calling her that??? (considering how in different languages the word "prey" could have different meanings.) I'll just say that as someone who has been "prey" herself at one point, I REALLY hate that word as a descriptor. Just say victim or survivor. 👍

Honestly to call ANY victim "prey" is so fucked up. "Prey" to me, feels like "it's meant to happen." "Prey" are part of the food chain and so that's what happens. And to compare that to abduction and SA? Almost as if "that's our place"? It also kind of implies something being "eaten" or killed... Helen SURVIVES. She's traumatized and definitely needs healing and support but it's not like she can't find joy or peace ever again. Prey just feels so fucking gross.

Also, if someone calls victims "prey", I hope they know that Moose, Elk, Boars, Bovine, ZEBRAS, etc. are technically "prey". And these are VERY aggressive animals while still being "prey" for some other animals. And also that doesn't mean that "Oh, they're powerful! Clearly they should've been able to stop it." That's victim blaming :P

She is a clever, determined, caring woman who was ripped from her home for YEARS because Paris was a dipshit who decided he needed the prettiest woman in the world despite already having a wife. He didn't care about the fact that Helen didn't want to be there and was already married. He is so selfish that he will not let her go back even when THOUSANDS have died in the war! EVEN HIS BROTHER HECTOR AND PRIAM DO NOT BLAME HER! Granted, we do not know if Aphrodite would have let him undo their deal of "I want the prettiest woman" if he DID end up feeling bad for Helen and he wished to let her go home (I doubt it based on his personality though).

"Oh, if she is so independent/strong, then why didn't she just kill Paris and leave?"

AGAIN! Victim blaming!!! First thing, people who ask that have media literacy that is piss on the poor. You also have no idea about the political implications that would have happened if she DID kill Paris. She literally cries about staying there and argues with Aphrodite about seeing Paris, only to get strongarmed by Aphrodite as, guess what? A GODDESS WILL ALWAYS OVERPOWER A DEMIGOD. (This isn't Percy Jackson where he "killed" Ares as a 12 year old (Percy, you were my childhood, but that's bullshit.))

Even confined in Troy, she ARGUED with APHRODITE about going to see Paris! She is not some meek woman who just does as she's told with no pushback! She argued with a GODDESSS! Very few survive doing that!!!

She's not "Prey to fate", she's a "VICTIM of Fate".

[running-in-the-dark]

oh, a fun* thing I'm noticing about when I'm writing something is that there's absolutely no descriptions of what anything looks like ever. not the rooms, not people's clothes, just nothing. everything happens in a blank void and no one... is wearing any clothes? no that's definitely not where I was going with that but now I've forgotten what I really wanted to say.

anyway, it's really not surprising and just mirrors how I read things written by other people too - I completely skip over any descriptions like that. can't do anything with it anyway so it's just unnecessary information to me

*not so fun

[anaalnathrakhs]

Whaaa driver’s Ed is one of the easiest classes you can take

I don't know anon, maybe the level of the questions is low, but that's assuming they're formulated in good faith.

Part of the problem is that since I'm only training I am incredibly over the forced snail pace so I make silly inattention mistakes I hopefully won't make taking the actual exam, but I'm still not happy that some questions are purposefully based on semantics so that you can know and understand the underlying practical problem and still answer wrong. Not even counting the moralizing questions, like the stats about people killed in a car accident every year. I understand it's good to have been told these numbers to know the risk and drill in our heads to be careful, I just don't think "memorizing a number per time duration" is a skill that should be measured by drivers ed. I really hope these are training-only questions but meh. Unlikely.

[twomanyfandomshelp]

LOOK AT THIS ART I WANNA EAT IT OH MY GOSH IT LOOKS SO GOOD HOW DO PEOPLE JUST DO THIS

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH

Build n Seek aka joy and delight on planet earth