#in which no conclusions are reached

[mrvelocipede]

I recently tried knitting a small doily from a chart that I don't know where it came from. I have several folders full of stuff like this, that I downloaded years ago, back when Google search still worked. It appears to be a scan from an old magazine.

I'd pulled this one out because it didn't have very many rounds, and I wanted something small and quick. Ha ha. It's turned into a much more extensive project, during which I've changed the bind-off, redesigned some of the chart, and knit three different versions of the thing, with at least one more planned.

I've been doing four chart repeats, instead of the three that are indicated by the photo, but even with that I've been able to knit each of them in less than a day, in between doing a bunch of other things. Which has me thinking about time and money.

If I assume four hours at $7.25 per hour, that's $29. At $15 an hour, I'm up to $60. The U. S. Bureau of Labor Statistics optimistically tells me a Craft Artist might make as much as $20 an hour. Wow, my small doily might be worth eighty bucks!

Except, obviously, no one is going to pay $80 for a small knitted doily. Probably no one is even going to go for the modest $29. The only likely way to make a couple of bucks on this thing is if I can manage to write, publish, and promote a pattern, and sell it to people who want to knit their own. If I can sell sixteen copies of a pattern at five bucks apiece, I'm back up to $80 again.

But writing the pattern with enough information that someone can knit from it confidently, which means including a lot more information than that bare chart and murky finished photograph, means many more hours and days of work.

And I'm not especially wanting to make money from this. Mainly, I wanted a mat to go under my teapot, now that I've knitted a tea cozy for it, and I figured I might as well knit one. But it sure has given me a lot of not-very-useful thoughts about capitalism and mass production and the perceived value of objects.

[sophiebaybey]

Not to preach to the choir but I wonder if people generally realize that AI models like ChatGPT aren't, like, sifting through documented information when you ask it particular questions. If you ask it a question, it's not sifting through relevant documentation to find your answer, it is using an intensely inefficient method of guesswork that has just gone through so many repeated cycles that it usually, sometimes, can say the right thing when prompted. It is effectively a program that simulates monkeys on a typewriter at a mass scale until it finds sets of words that the user says "yes, that's right" to enough times. I feel like if it was explained in this less flattering way to investors it wouldn't be nearly as funded as it is lmao. It is objectively an extremely impressive technology given what it has managed to accomplish with such a roundabout and brain-dead method of getting there, but it's also a roundabout, brain-dead method of getting there. It is inefficient, pure and simple.

[lostsyren]

I've read all of your work, but my memory SUCKS. Have we gotten a love confession from Rafe? Maybe it can tie into a third part of the whole ''I have standards'' fight that they are in.

ᥫ᭡ I love you

{summary: the first three times rafe cameron says ‘I love you’ to sofia}

{a/n: sorry for the delay. i didn’t include this to be with the standards series, so i apologise! you can tell how behind on my asks i am! but i hope you still like it!}

{warning: mild sexual content}

౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

The first time Sofia heard him say those words she couldn’t be sure he actually said them.

It was when they were fucking. Well– not really that. Sex had become something that transcended physical. It became almost a mental game between the two– where eye contact was held, where touches felt reverent, where kisses were uncontrolled. It was no longer hooking up, it was companionship– for the both of them.

Sofia knew Rafe was lonely. She quickly figured out the playboy, cocky, man of the house persona that clung to him like dried paint was a front. He’d always be wary of never hurting her (well at least not consciously) and that was a lot more than what could be said about other guys on Figure 8 she’d messed around with. They were always mean; especially after they’d wetted their dicks with her.

“Be quiet when you leave– if they see I hooked up with the bartender I’d never live it down.”

“You think you can give me free drinks now? I think I deserve it.”

“You pogues always want more don’t you?”

They’d always say they were joking when they would see her crestfallen face and wide eyes. Rafe’s jokes had irked her a couple times too, but he’d always found a way to fix it– make her feel better. They never did.

So when Sofia heard Rafe murmur something against the flushed skin of her neck, his head buried into her hair, lips pressed on her jugular vein– her heart spluttered for a second.

“I love you,” he panted, half breathless, half groaning.

It was either she’d misheard or he was joking.

So she let the moment pass, wrapping her legs tighter around his waist as she came. He didn’t say anything afterwards. Maybe he didn’t want her to hear? That’s why he’d muffled his mouth with her nape. Maybe he didn’t mean it? It was just a wanton slip of the tongue. Or maybe he didn’t say it at all and she was just hearing what she wanted.

The second time he said it he was drunk. And she heard him loud and clear.

Rafe wasn’t the type to get full-on, no inhibitions, sloppy, drunk. He could handle his drink. It was usually him who had to deal with Sofia’s tipsy ramblings and inebriated stumbles.

So when he was throwing back shot after shot at some party they’d attended together, Sofia thought nothing of it. But later on when he’d come crawling back to her, after fooling around with Topper and Kelce, she was surprised to see him like that: drooping eyelids, blush-kissed cheeks, a clear, rhythmic sway to his walk.

“Hey baby,” he slurred, sinking next to her on the couch. His head lolled back, and up close she could see a faint sheen of sweat coat his skin.

“Rafe– are you drunk?” She said, bringing her mouth close to his ear. He sat like he always sat– sprawled out, legs spilling into her space.

“No…I’m fine.”

He was not. He’d been acting off for a the past couple days. But whatever was bothering him, he didn’t let slip. Sofia had a hunch it was something to do with his family– information he’d impart with rarely. But whenever he did mention his father, or his sister, sometimes even his mother…Sofia listened, still and solemn.

“Come on, let’s go.” She left one word unspoken, that dangled off the end of the sentence like breath hanging in front of you when it’s cold.

Let’s go home.

But it wasn’t her home. It was his home. She’d been with him long enough to feel like this was something more. She knew it was something more. But neither her or Rafe would concede first. Not out of stubbornness or embarrassment. But fear of ruining what they had. So she swallowed the word bitterly, and let what was hers and what was his exists in their separate spheres. They weren’t each other’s. They were just two people who fucked.

Sofia half-carried him out the party, face burning as she passed Kelce and Topper. She knew what they saw her as. And she hated it.

But Rafe breezed by without a care, his arm slung around her frame, his hands playing with hers as she tried to grasp on to him.

Eventually they reached his car.

Sofia had directed him to the passenger seat, and after a few grumbles and complaints, she managed to grab the keys from him.

Driving the BMW down the smooth-paved streets of Figure 8 was something Sofia loved. Rafe let her sometimes when she’d ask, otherwise he would drive them everywhere.

In the plush, leather interior, she didn’t have to fumble with a janky gearstick, or worry about stalling, like she did in her decades old car. She could just cruise, listening to Rafe’s soft sounds as he slept.

Once they reached Tannyhill, she’d woken him up and coaxed him to bed. Turns out drunk Rafe was even more of a wilful terco.

“Come on baby, let’s get you to bed,” she said, voice like velvet. Rafe eventually complied, ending collapsing on their– his– his bed.

He was out, chest rising and falling, mouth slightly parted. Sofia’s heart stirred. He was so pretty sometimes. When he wasn’t trying to appear threatening and tough. A sense of innocence settled over his relaxed features, that never seemed to shine through when he was awake.

Sofia pulled off his shoes before slipping into the en-suite to run a washcloth under the tap. She took a seat beside him, running the damp fabric across his brow.

The action caused him to stir, blue eyes blinking open, meeting her own stare.

“Sofiaaa,” he murmured, lips tugging up into an amused smile. His hands snaked over his body to meet her wrist as she dabbed the washcloth across his sweaty face.

“Raaafe,” she teased, mirroring his lilting tone.

“You’re so pretty, you know that right?” His words were breathy and low, barely audible despite the silence of the shadowy room.

“Thank you Rafe.” He moved her hands away from his face, so he could see her more clearly, hand still folded around her wrist.

“And you’re so kind and nice and fun. You make me feel good. Like real good.”

Sofia scoffed, letting the washcloth fall onto the bedside table, dropping his hand across his stomach. “I’m not sleeping with you Rafe so don’t even try it– you’re drunk remember?”

He just shook his head, “nahhh– Like you make me feel good here.” He tapped his hand against his chest, his fingers hitting the sternum where his heartbeat was.

He waited for her reaction, his dilated eyes looking like two wet marbles, his lips shiny with saliva and remnants of tequila.

Sofia’s gaze softened, her hand reaching out to caress the slope of his cheekbone, her thumb brushing against his face.

“You’re so sweet, cariño,” she hummed, smiling down at him.

“I love you Sofia. Like so fucking much, yeah?”

Her heart dropped, breath hitching in her ribcage. She stopped the gentle circles rubbing into his skin, but her hand remained cupped against his cheek.

He didn’t mean it. He was drunk. He was lying. He was teasing her.

But the way he looked up at her: Waiting. Anticipating her response to his words. His blue eyes flickering in the half-dark.

In the quiet of the bedroom Sofia chose to believe them.

“I love you too Rafe.” Her voice was quiet and high, bordering a rasped out cry. God, did it feel good to say. Sofia Flores was in love with Rafe Cameron.

His face broke out in a boyish smile, and for once he looked his age. Not like a man trying to fills his father’s shoes, sleep in his father’s bed, take over his father’s company. He looked like a boy in love– sappy and sweet and soft.

“Give me a kiss,” he instructed.

“You reek of alcohol.”

“If you loved me you would,” he huffed with a smirk.

Sofia laughed, eyes crinkling in the corner, “that’s not fair.” But she bent down anyway, her hair tickling his face, which he tucked away behind her ear.

“My pretty girl,” he mused, staring into her eyes, his own glossed over in a drunken haze.

“Mi niño lindo.” Sofia brushed a chaste kiss over his forehead, before moving off of him, realising he’d slipped into a steady sleep.

Sofia undressed, sliding into bed beside him. She nestled up against his body heat, her heart fluttering when he moved to bring her in closer– his hand slotted against the crook of her hip, his face nearing hers.

After that night, Rafe didn’t seem to remember his drunken love confession. But Sofia stored it inside her heart, tucked in between her own pulsating love for him.

The third time he said it was her birthday. Sofia hated birthdays. They were just a reminder of how she’d gotten nowhere in life. Still stuck in the shitty job she got when she was 18, still stuck on the Cut, still stuck living life for her family rather than herself.

Her parents had given her a hug and a kiss, and her little sister had made her a card. But as always, she then had to leave for her shift at the country club.

Sofia had let herself recognise the occasion, picking up half a dozen cupcakes for her and her colleagues. Ever since she’d spent more time with Rafe, Sofia had neglected her friendships with them. They’d smile at her and make small talk, but they never invited her back for drinks, or told her about parties on the Cut– she couldn’t have gone of course since she was busy with Rafe, but it would’ve been nice to have the option of declining. Sofia pushed away her trivial insecurities, and held the white box with shaky hands.

They’d all seemed chagrined when she told them it was her birthday– embarrassed they didn’t get her anything, embarrassed it slipped their mind, embarrassed that Sofia acknowledged their crumbling bond. But they still ate the cupcakes on their break before going back to letting Sofia skirt conversations and pretend to ignore them when they discussed their plans.

It was nearing evening and her day was coming to an end, when she spotted Rafe walk across the bar floor, a big smile on his face.

They hadn’t planned to meet today. But Sofia was relieved to see him regardless, finding herself mirroring his wide grin.

“Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you were busy today?” She asked, already making his drink that she’d grown to memorise.

Rafe just shrugged, retaining that sly grin on his mouth, “I missed you. Are you busy?”

Sofia shook her head “only with work.”

He drove her back to Tannyhilly when she finished her final shift. She noticed he seemed effervescent, bubbling with energy: fingers tapping against the wheel, eyes darting everywhere, shoulders rolling back ever so often.

He led the way inside once they reached the house, Sofia heading up to the bedroom.

But Rafe stopped her. “Wait– follow me.”

Sofia quirked her eyebrows, “why?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, grabbing her by the hand, “just come on.”

Rafe took her to the kitchen, but before they went past the doors, he stopped, letting go of her hand and instead moving to stand behind her.

“What are you–?”

“Shh– just trust me.” And with that, he covered her eyes with his big hands and slowly pushed her into the kitchen.

Sofia giggled nervously, feeling Rafe’s tall figure crowd against her back. She’d honestly forgotten it was her birthday, so when Rafe’s hands fell from her face, letting her upon the candle lit table, a helium balloon that gently swayed, the bouquet of lilies and peonies that sat verdant in the centre, her heart faltered a little.

“Happy birthday Sof,” he said softly behind her, smiling down, watching her face intently.

“What– how– ?”

“I saw it on your ID once and kept a note of it. Was hoping you’d tell me, but you didn’t so I thought I’d surprise you.”

Sofia’s eyes roved over all the little details: the fancy china she’d never seen him use, the expensive bottle of champagne that was sitting there waiting to be opened, her name in swirling script across the balloon.

He took her silence as something negative, “you don’t like it. Fuck I’m sorry. This is weird isn’t it?”

Sofia quickly stopped him “no no no! This is so beautiful, I love it! It’s just that I never really do anything for my birthday– I’m just surprised that’s all.”

Rafe considered her words, a brief flash of confusion swiping across his face, “well sit down and I’ll serve dinner yeah?”

Sofia nodded, smiling up at him.

They finished eating (Rafe had gotten her pizza from her favourite spot), and they sat nursing their drinks at the table.

“I’m sorry you spent most your birthday working,” he suddenly said, starring at her with a piercing sincerity that unsettled her.

She simply just laughed, “don’t worry about it, I’m used to it.”

“I’m sorry for that. You deserve more.” They shared a brief glance that felt too long, the back of Sofia’s neck prickling in goosebumps.

“Wait I forgot one thing.” He got up, disappearing behind the kitchen counter.

“What?” Sofia arched her neck trying to see what he was doing.

“Can’t forget the birthday girl’s gift,” he teased, pulling out a wrapped present, complete with a bow and everything.

Sofia bit back a smile, her eyebrows softening at his giddy smirk. She accepted the gift gingerly, examining the golden wrapping paper that glowed in the dull candle light. She could tell he wrapped it himself– there was tape in places that didn’t need it and the paper was wrinkled slightly, as if he’d tried folding it multiple times. It was heavy too, Sofia’s arm sagging slightly when he handed it over.

“You didn’t have to Rafe,” she began, her cheeks turning pink.

He shushed her again, “just open it.”

And so she did, carefully tearing the paper, to reveal a box with golden clasps. She opened it, realising it was a vintage record player.

“Oh my god– Rafe you shouldn’t have.” Her eyes were glued on the near perfect finishings, the sheen of the leather and glint of the metal attachments. She’d mentioned ages ago about how much she loved records, when they were talking about what music they listened to. But she didn’t have a record player to play her collection, curated from lucky thrift store finds and countless trips to old music shops.

And Rafe still remembered? She was overcome with a heady verve.

“Do you like it?” He asked, as if he was almost shy.

“Of course! It’s literally perfect– thank you so much!”

Rafe chuckled, watching her with a soft smile as she fiddled with all the buttons, running her fingers across the smooth surface.

Sofia placed her new gift on the tables getting up so she could hug Rafe. He happily complied, lifting her slightly, and spinning her around. A bubbly giggle escaped her chest as her hands flew around his neck.

“Feliz cumpleaños, baby,” he murmured, putting her down on her feet, before hooking her lips with a soft, slow kiss.

“Love you,” he murmured against her lips, but clear enough so that she could hear every syllable. Her whole body became suffuse with a euphoric warmth as if it was injected into her by those words.

“Love you too,” she whispered back, kissing him again.

Their kisses grew hungrier and more desperate until he hoisted her up so her legs were entwined around his waist, one arm holding her up while the other pushed back her messy curls.

“You down?” He asked in between kisses which made her laugh.

“Yes I’m down,” she gasped, brushing her nose against his causing him to smile.

Rafe led Sofia onto the kitchen counter, placing her on the cool granite countertop, her thighs clenching at the cold sensation of it hitting her warm skin.

His lips enmeshed with hers, supping voraciously at the tender flesh, his teeth catching at her lower lip, inciting a throaty groan which he mirrored.

Rafe’s hands roamed wildly across her exposed skin, inching up her leg, bunching her blue work skirt up until it reached the line of her hips. He hooked his hands under the meat of her thigh, tugging her forward so she was at the edge of the counter. His lips licked lower and lower, kisses being peppered down the length of her arm, as Sofia watching in a lustful stupor.

Rafe lowered himself until his face was between her legs. He placed her hand, that was still in his, atop his head, forcing her to push him even lower. The sight of Rafe Cameron practically on his knees for her, made Sofia see stars.

He let go of her hand, Sofia rubbing a thumb across his tickling buzzcut, as he parted her pressed together thighs with a rough hand.

Rafe mewled as she scratched her fingers through his shorn hair and Sofia whined at the feeling of his hot breath fanning her skin.

“Got another gift for you too,” he said with a smirk, Sofia rolling her eyes, but the words lit a fire in her lower abdomen that flickered deep inside her.

“I love you Sof,” he said, quiet, dipping his head down between the valley of her thighs, kissing her warm skin with delicate lips. The kisses became coarser, until she felt teeth graze at her flesh, biting into her pillowy legs.

Sofia let out a hiss. He didn’t wait for her to say it back this time– as if it didn’t matter. He loved her and that was the only important thing.

Even if she wanted to say something, her words became caught in her throat, reserved to only exalted whimpers and strung out cries, as Rafe showed her just how much he meant what he said, leaving her a writhing mess on the kitchen counter.

౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

[j-august]

"I sometimes wonder," said Francis Crawford, "if I only exist to be sacrificed to."

Dorothy Dunnett, Checkmate

[transmasccofee]

honestly one of my fav things that isn’t ever talked about with Kusuo is that he is honestly when you actually examine him, a pretty normal teenager. He’s insecure, he cares a lot about his mom and is scared of making her mad, he gets invested in other peoples drama, he dislikes PE, he hates being spoiled for things, he has an embarrassing crush that his friends judge him for, he has an awkward relationship with his dad and fights with his brother, he wants to be protected.

Like underneath all the unfamiliar stuff, he is honestly Just Some Guy.

[moonsglare]

unironically i view you as the arlecchino and kujou sara wiki page, cause all your analyses are just so well done. also, i take happiness knowing the animatic also broke your heart as well cause i had to replay that animatic 15 times cause it was that awesomeballs... might be my #1 animatic... also omg first time i seen an arle fan say that she is part of the cycle of abuse, i think when you tell other fans that arle is inevitably a preperator in the cycle, people assume that you are just suggesting she is abusing the children in a similar fashion of that of the previous mother. to me, her abuse is neccesary in the sense that she can't escape the cycle but she can and will help her children escape it. at least thats how i understood it. each time i cry, just thinking that lynette, lyney and freminet will escape the cycle and make the house of hearth truly a warm and soft house but arlecchino won't be able to part of it. like i need a gun... also bit unrelated but in lyney's troubles: dove voiceline he tells a story where he used to set free the doves he raised and usually all of them returned back to him, but few didn't return back one time and he later found them dead after he tracked them down. and he expresses how he still faces difficulty on how to give both freedom and safety. which is such a direct parallel to arlecchino, literally sick in the stomach.. like the question of how free do you let your children be while also making sure they stay safe? LORD I NEED TO JUMP OFF

yeah i mean to me avoiding acknowledging that arlecchino is still very much participating in the perpetuation of violence in the hearth would be a disservice to her character. of course she's not cruel for cruelty's sake like crucabena was, but the house still isn't a safe place for children by any measure. in her animated teaser, she (albeit not intentionally) sent a teenager to her death. there are still choices she makes that she believes are necessary that result in children being hurt or killed. that isn't to say she doesn't care; she does care, as we see in the way she hunts down the noblewoman who killed her daughter without a care about the possible consequences, and how she developed a 'memory wipe procedure' for the children who wanted to live alongside dottore, who she hates. but no amount of caring erases or absolves what she's done, and what she's doing—and that's a conflict she struggles with in silence.

she does, of course, do her best to be better. she's firm, but not cruel. gentle, but not so much as to be a pushover. she does what she can to make an institution built on foundations of abuse into something that can just barely pass for a house. she teaches her children how to protect themselves, she nourishes their interests, she keeps them as safe as she can—all so that one day it will be them who truly turns this house into a home. and to me all this is what makes her so, so special in my eyes. at her very core arlecchino is someone who loves, and someone who hopes, even when the world has given her every reason not to. she has her hopes on a gentler future, even if it's one she believes she has no part in, or that she simply may never get to see. there's just so much nuance to her and i truly love her so much it's probably unhealthy sdkjfhskjf

also i am very honored to be considered an arle and kjsr wiki dhjfdk i will do my best to ensure that faith isn't misplaced o7

[whetstonefires]

#4 please !

Now see this could be tricky, because generally if I don't get some key elements written down very quickly the idea flows away again and the 'yet' disappears, even if I remember generally what it was about, but I have one this time! I am still just enough plagued by this vision that it's not out of the question I'll go for the capture, but so far nada.

Idea was basically a Jiang family character study by way of modern au. (So tw canonical abuse.) I started from the reflection, in a modern au very high chance the Jiangs are divorced, because being a divorcee wouldn't necessarily ruin Yu Ziyuan in the modern world, as long as she was allowed to control the narrative enough that she didn’t look at fault, so it might be on the table.

Especially because modern views on child abuse are such that while she'd hold back more than she already does in terms of physical chastisement, Jiang Fengmian would also be under less societal pressure to not interfere in her disciplinary system too much, and both these factors mean he’s more likely to put his foot down.

So, concept: Jiang Fengmian, when his son is eight and his daughter thirteen, forces the issue of taking in his best friends' abused orphan child whom he’s just managed to track down in a nightmarish group home, probably leveraging the fact that wherever their money comes from it's mostly his, something he usually doesn't do, but she has always known he could, and been fucked up about it (reasonable) and hated him a little (less so) and hates him so much more now (understandable but still fucked up).

They were obviously still both pressured into this marriage by their families, because I literally cannot imagine them choosing one another of their own free will, and if they did that would be an au in an even more dramatic way than being modern, and no longer work as a character or relationship study as far as I'm concerned. I mean or it’s a cql-based au, but that’s not the version of this toxic marriage I find compelling.

Situation subsequently deteriorates to the point that when the boys are around twelve some outside party observes and is repulsed or otherwise upset by Yu Ziyuan's treatment of Wei Wuxian specifically--she's emotionally abusive to everyone in the family, canonically, and it harms Jiang Cheng significantly more than Wei Wuxian, which I think is also pretty explicit on the page, but she's more openly antagonistic about going after wwx because he's basically a proxy for her husband, whom she doesn't consider to be someone she's capable of harming.

And ofc in a modern family scenario, being abusive to your foster kid is more plainly personal misconduct than being unfair in how you discipline one of your husband's many students, even if it is his favorite. Which means she's very unlikely to chase him around with a whip, but whatever she does do will sting that much more emotionally.

Anyway the outside judgement provokes a more explicit confrontation than the last four years of maneuver and attempting to balance all the competing needs according to two very different standards. And the upshot is that by the time wwx is 13, the Jiangs are divorced. To avoid making a humiliating spectacle of themselves they present a weirdly united front in court and have a very smooth uncontested proceding, although the closed meetings with their respective lawyers involved a lot of vitriol.

Yu Ziyuan, despite having a smallish trust fund and probably a job of some kind, though one that's more prestigious than profitable like uh. Olympic fencing coach. Idk what they make but it's probably not enormous. She and Cangse Sanren probably competed in the same events back in the day.

Anyway she gets a solid chunk of alimony, the house, and primary custody of both her children, although Jiang Yanli is almost 18 at this point so mostly she just gets Jiang Cheng. Everyone thinks Jiang Cheng wants it that way, including sort of Jiang Cheng; he has this idea that if he has his mom to himself they'll finally have a good relationship, even though he's also terrified of being left all alone with her. He's complicated. Families are complicated.

Also she would never have forgiven him if he hadn't concurred that he wanted to stay with his mother because she was the only one On His Side.

Jiang Yanli ofc does not move out right away when she comes of age, in part because her brother needs her, but she probably does go to college, so she's only around part-time.

Jiang Fengmian, meanwhile, keeps most of his financial assets and Wei Wuxian, and gets his kids on the weekends.

So that's all setup for how you have this situation where Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng are entering high school--probably the same school, together, but no longer sharing the commute except maybe Monday mornings--and Wei Wuxian's primary residence is Jiang Cheng's dad's apartment.

It’s really chill. They get a cleaning service in once a week and eat a lot of delivery food, but they do cook at least once a week. The canonical thing where they largely agree about what’s funny and what’s right-or-wrong, and so forth, on the one hand really pops when there’s mostly no external conflict disrupting it, but also probably gains more complexity now that it’s not a thread of positivity fighting for its life against a background of drama. They get to know each other better than they ever had a chance to in canon.

Some of that isn't all that positive, because now they have the space to discover the places where they do actually have the capacity for friction, but both of them are very good at dispersing tension (I do tend to suspect jfm's dad was abusive he sure acts like it), and on the whole it's a good thing.

Jiang Cheng is going to have such a mental health crisis, and Jiang Fengmian is going to handle it so badly. Because of course when his son starts replicating his ex-wife's toxic attitudes and behaviors more now that she has primary custody, he’s going to feel guilty and like it’s His Fault, but he’s going to feel like it’s his fault that Jiang Cheng is growing up to be a shitty abusive person.

And even if he’d never say that the subtext would come through, in the assumptions he made when framing communications and so forth, as in canon, so the thing where Jiang Cheng’s father loves Wei Wuxian more than him, or at any rate likes him better and thinks he’s a better person and prefers his company, would wind up feeding into a self-reinforcing loop.

(Jin Zixuan's nasty public remark about Jiang Fengmian treating Wei Wuxian better than his own children hits Jiang Cheng significantly harder in this scenario, where he's being Tormented by the feeling that all his peers know his dad walked out on him for another son. Wei Wuxian's punch is therefore even more clearly primarily for Jiang Cheng's sake, although Jiang Cheng is probably more inclined to see it as being for his dad's. Jin Zixuan is about halfway between the Jiang kids' ages here, so he's a senior saying this shit to a sophomore.)

So that cycle builds to the point where Jiang Cheng would eventually have one of those rare moments where he resorts to actual violence, because his poisoned feelings are choking him so bad his rationality deserts him.

He’s not going to be nearly as close to actually murdering Wei Wuxian as he was in canon the night the Jiang Sect was massacred, because it’s a less extreme situation, but he still goes for the neck. So Jiang Fengmian is in his home office one Saturday about a year and a half into this new normal, and realizes the boys are fighting. He hears through the wall the accusation you stole my dad. He says to himself, well that’s terrible but interjecting myself into this situation would definitely make it worse.

Then he hears sounds of violence, and then an ominous abrupt silence, and updates that analysis.

And when he opens the door to the boys’ room, Wei Wuxian is being strangled. He’s not really resisting, which is because he’s made the call that that’s way more likely to get Jiang Cheng to snap out of it, and thinks it might make Jiang Cheng feel better to get it out of his system (because he does sort of feel like what Jiang Cheng is going through is all his fault, or at any rate is much worse as a result of decisions made for his sake) and is severely underestimating the dangers of choking, but looks to a third party like he’s already passed out and Jiang Cheng is still at it. Which is to say, it looks like a serious murder attempt on the brink of success.

So that sure made that situation worse!

So yeah that's my idea that I probably won't write but it sure has its teeth in me.

[natsmagi]

happyele just shoot me with a gun at this point. like I actually feel like I'm in mourning. it's not just about the haircut like ignoring the promise they made as children ok. it's about the destruction of his entire character. what do you plan to do going forward as a fan? caught between wanting to burn all my merch and pretend I never heard of Switch, but I can't ignore how much it meant to me and how they've literally saved my life over the years. I just don't know.

like the way tsumugi just Wouldnt do this is so crazy. the way their growth didnt matter. ive spoken about it so much by now both publicly and in private but WOW is it astounding how they slaughtered the entire point of his character in one story

as for what i plan to do, im going to keep loving switch. because the stories that made me love them arent gone, theyre still available to read if you just do a little digging. And frankly, wonder game served as a good finale for them, so i can live pretending that that was their happy ending, especially since that was clearly the intention for the story. im lucky that i have friends who feel the same way i do, and will be indulging with the series this same way themselves alongside me. its not gonna be the same as frolicking with a large scale fandom, but considering how much time and love and money we've poured into this game i think its within our right to reject blatant slaughtering of the characters we love and to cut ties with the company. obviously, many are gonna move forward with this change, and many artists are gonna draw this tsumugi from here on out. this is their prerogative of course, and we're within no right to stop them, but since the thought of just. not seeing the character i fell in love with anymore is heartbreaking, im considering going back to drawing men more frequently again too if times get desperate. i love femstars, but i also just love my guys deeply in general. i dont want to see the switch i love become forgotten. so if i have to keep them alive myself ill do my very best.

i havent had alot of motivation to draw, as enstars has been making me rather drained since 4piece was introduced, but im also too stubborn to let go. i have a few ideas for !-era scenes i wish to draw, and femstars wasnt quite as popular back then, so im excited to get to femstarsify some of my favorite old scenes once im energized again!! !-era is full of so many stories, so really we're far from starved. and i like having things left for the imagination. speculating and analyzing is part of whats so fun! so im ok with not every question being answered. id rather they remain unanswered than to witness what i love become retconned

[cherryblossomchronicles]

I'm halfway through the show, Queen of Tears, and something that I've seen floating across is the anti Hyun Woo sentiment regarding how he treated Hae In initially and was just trying to do it all for the will.

Something to understand here is that in situations such as his, where he was emotionally empty and just a shell of himself who was just functioning, he didn't have the bandwidth to understand the gravity of situation that was Hae In's terminal illness.

In Hyun Woo's mind, he didn't have Hae In's support anywhere, be it against his in-Laws or in the company. She is silent against her family and hostile and argumentative in the company. He doesn't know what all she does for him on the sly or in backstage. He is not aware and Hae In never made the effort to change that situation.

All that pressure, anxiety, gear and emotional drain took its toll on Hyun Woo's emotional capacity. Stuck in a state of constant negativity, his initial reaction to Hae In's illness might be a form of self-preservation. He shuts down completely, unable to process the additional emotional burden of her mortality.

Something to remember is also the fact, that although he was thinking of it, the one thing that pushed him to draft the divorce papers were the talk of their child, whose entire identity and life was being decided by Hae In's family while she had no opinion on that and couldn't care less. This entire situation fueled the fire of resentment burning within Hyun Woo. Here was Hae In, seemingly indifferent to the future of their potential child, the very thing that initially distanced them. It felt like a repeat of their early struggles, where her family held all the cards and Hae In remained silent, leaving him to battle alone.

This perception, however flawed it might be, explains his impulsive decision to draft the divorce papers. Exhausted and emotionally hollowed out, he saw the child issue as the final straw, a symbol of their inability to stand together. He might have been grasping at a desperate solution, a way to force a change in their dynamic, a cry for her to finally fight for him and their future.

Of course, this doesn't paint Hyun Woo as a hero. His actions were undeniably hurtful, a clumsy and emotionally charged attempt to solve a complex situation. But by understanding the immense pressure he was under, the constant negativity seeping into his core, we can see a flicker of vulnerability beneath his anger. He craved Hae In's support, her voice alongside his in the face of adversity. Perhaps, the divorce papers were a twisted plea for her to finally break her silence, to acknowledge his pain and fight for their future together.

Here's where empathy becomes crucial. While his actions are undeniably hurtful, it's important to consider if they stem from malice or a desperate attempt to cope.

Think about it this way: Imagine a cup overflowing with negativity. Hyun Woo's daily struggles with his in-laws, the lack of support at work, and the constant emotional strain have already filled his cup to the brim. When Hae In's illness is revealed, it's simply too much for him to handle at that moment. He doesn't have the emotional space to understand the gravity of her situation, let alone offer support. in fact, it's easy for him to consider her death as an easy escape since his capacity for empathy or his love for her was essentially buried under all that negativity.

[flame-shadow]

Collection of the backdrops I did for the Bug Fables NPC Collab

I wanted to put them all in one post, since I'm quite proud of what I did. :)

[IDs in alt]

[bogkeep]

every day i'm tapping the sign

the sign: we didn't have a satisfying definition of Real Art before the advent of "ai" and trying to define it now only distracts from the actual problems

[skeleton-squid-b0y]

ALL OTHER idiotsmart characters cancelled. Bill Potts only. she is one of the quickest and most insightful when figuring out the tardis. she knows it can't have been moved into the office whole and she notices when it's moved slightly over the rug. she points out it's silly the chairs aren't closer to the controls and that he named the acronym in english AND that a camoflauge that instructs you to open it is stupid. and then she uses all of that information to conclude the tardis is a knock through that's also a lift. and looks like a kitchen. tell me that isn't the smartest idiot conclusion.

[cuchufletapl]

I've just come across a tiktok of a person (who has 90k+ followers and is pretty well-known in lefttok for having well-articulated, intelligent takes, by the way) copying almost word for word that post by weaver-z (with an addition by roach-works) explaining how Divergent destroyed YA dystopian literature, and claiming those to be their own thoughts.

An honestly hysterical thing to happen just two days after HBomberguy dropped his video on plagiarism — in which he theorises that those who steal somebody else's work do it because, aside from their lack of creativity clashing with their desire for money and clout, they think the author so below them that they don't deserve the dignity of being credited and nobody would even catch the plagiarism.

We know this is common but fucking Christ. Finding such a blatant example in the wild during this time is such an experience.

[carriesthewind]

.

[cloudbends]

I was planning on writing my thoughts in the tags about the episode after watching it subbed.... But honestly..... There's just. So much. I love pokemon horizons so much

[faelapis]

i should really sleep.... but i'm pretty close to the next "something better" chapter being done... i dont wanna Promise its coming out tomorrow, but we can hope??