#lets hope it does for a long long time

[eydilily]

would you bite the hand that feeds you?

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Maybe we never had a chance.

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[oneroomjestershow]

Loved in every universe

[reineydraws]

had to draw this to understand the way i feel about him now that the manga's ended. 🥲 on that note: if you like hawks and his ending, maybe don't read my tags lol. it's not bashing (imo) but they're not v nice. 😅

bg + unobstructed pose under the cut!

his expression's a lil different 'cuz i only changed the merged layer, all the lighting effects already flattened onto it. 💀 alas.

[chibishortdeath]

Ya know, Castlevania tackled the concept that life after defeating Dracula could be difficult for a Belmont with Richter feeling like he’d lost all purpose and reason to go on living if not for saving others and fighting against something—

But, do you think any of them before him felt that way too?

I mean it sounds kind of miserable, being raised your whole life to be solely relied on for one moment… and then what? How do you handle the sudden shift to ‘not being needed anymore’? Evidently, most of them didn’t have very much happen to them after the events of their games since we don’t get to know—

But, do you think any of them ever got better? Do you think anyone before Richter ever learned how to live for themselves? Did Richter?

Anyway it’s 8 PM and I’m sitting around wondering if any of the Belmonts were still happy after their happy endings (debatable if certain ones got happy endings tbh but anyway), Konami can u check on them, I’m worried—

[jannacalendar]

I understand why it wasn't possible, but it's such a shame we couldn't get Jenny back for The Wish. She and Giles fighting a losing battle side by side and being hardened from it, but remaining each other's solace. Them piecing together the puzzle Cordelia presents to them and having faith in a world better than this, only for Anyanka to try and throw them by hinting at Jenny's death should they return. Giles faltering at the thought of losing her and Jenny, once again, sacrificing herself and destroying the necklace. The way she sees it: she'll either be dead by The Master's hand or by her own, and only one of those inevitabilities gives the man she loves a chance of survival. She kisses him as she plunges herself into the abyss, wanting the last thing she experiences to be his love.

Giles waking up the following morning, the pang in his heart he always feels whenever he remembers Jenny accompanied by a newfound feeling of emptiness, and he's not quite sure why.

[sleepymarmot]

The semi-rewatch of the s3 finale validated my past self's affection for Lucy Saxon

Every single new who showrunner, RTD included, repeatedly: Check out this character who is a dark mirror of the Doctor! RTD, his brain huge: Yes yes but how about we give them a dark mirror of a companion?

[faunandfloraas]

Seungmin saying they changed song by so it would be easier for people to watch and listen and then me seeing people going "Yes! It's good it's on tiktok and shorts now" and I'm like. Oh. You're all so fucking stupid <3

[king-spite]

i know the red queen tv show is now less likely to happen that katy perry going to space BUT if it DOES happen i think they should pull a rhaenicent and make elara and coriane have a failed tragic homoerotic friendship before becoming "rivals". nevermind what actually happens in the books. i think that would save me actually

[syn0vial]

i regularly get tags in my boba fett posts that say something along the lines of "#he needs a hug" so i'd like to pose a question to my fett fan followers:

assuming it came from someone he genuinely likes and cares about (think beviin or mirta), how do you think boba would react to someone hugging him?

[dennisboobs]

Dennis says the L word

[narwhalandchill]

okay so. skirk thoughts

first of all: as much as her design is still just kind of an ehhh compared to what couldve been, i do think it looks so much better in the actual game. the sfx in her arms and legs in particular helps a Lot imo. still not a massive fan but given i already loved the hair+eyes as well as the general color scheme, im warming up to it. still unfortunate we didnt get something more ambitious but i can live with this lmao

personality wise i actually really love how they went about her? its a little unexpected but skirk really has that abyss autism rizz to her JSJSIDISGFK love it. like this really isnt someone used to any manner of regular human interactions and it shows. i really like how blunt and utterly unfazed she is even when dropping some insane lore bombs bc theyre just peanuts to her. shes just completely unlike any character from any faction weve encountered before and i rly love the energy they gave her

i also found her little ramble about the value of life and death pretty interesting. it almost makes it sound like she considers herself dead in some way? with how she talks about there being no point in holding onto the bonds and remains of dead things and how this personal philosophy of hers is why she never comes to the surface anymore. like huh. whats up with that.

it also really reminds me of how an underappreciated aspect of childes characterization imo is how like. Incredibly insistent he is on staying alive being the most valuable thing? like this comes up Repeatedly in his voicelines. and now we have skirk literally talking about how to live is in itself a blessing. like i am Not buying this being coincidental at all. so unless they physically disprove me in this somehow down the line im taking this as 100% proof that childes high regard for life is Directly imparted to him through skirks teachings. and thats really interesting to think about.

and like. overall im quite happy with this glimpse of her character we have? i have bigger issues with the overall handling of the childe+narwhal+skirk segment of the AQ but those are narrative problems. skirk really stands out as a character and shes just. really fascinating AND funny as fuck in her nonchalance like. what an icon.

the only real unfortunate thing w her appearence specifically i think just has to do with the way her manner of speech and position as a narrator of dubious reliability to an extent is already leading to some. Quite unfortunate misreadings and/or taking the implications of her statements too far at face value. and i just know fandom will latch onto those forever 😭

(& jic i dont mean dubious reliability in the traditional unreliable narrator or like. lying or sth sense. just that her worldview is so alien and foreign to us that it should be taken into careful account before just blindly running off with any particular thing she claims)

like. firstly. the narwhal. ppl really dont seem to be catching onto how skirks perception of it as just a scuffed pet thats a hassle to manage isnt like. actually reflective of what a massive deal of an entity it is (read the boss fight quest item drop lore i am begging. or just wait for me to start narwhalposting JAJSKDK its coming 100%) 💀💀 what it DOES reflect more than anything is what an absolute maniac surtalogi (+ skirk by extension) has to be in order to claim a creature of this magnitude as a PET of all things. its also good to note that skirk herself readily admits both her highly unconventional view on most things AND that her master wont necessarily share any and all information with her - more so what he thinks is pertinent for her to know. her assessment of the narwhal as a nuisance of a task for a disciple isnt really reflective of the ultimate big picture HSJDKDKSK though it is very funny i have to admit.

im just preemptively annoyed and frustrated by it already bc its highkey giving azhdaha all over again where 99% of fandom just dismissed his deeper lore bc they took the storytellers claims of zhongli creating him at complete face value. like to the point hoyo had to literally add a whole segment at the end of the chasm interlude where zhongli more or less directly wink wink nod nods that a career entertainer isnt giving you the most accurate lore on this stuff 😭😭 like please. ive had the tears from among the stars lore fucking HAUNTING me ever since i first read it. its not just a silly pet whale im hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

and secondly. people really jumping the gun on "haha skirk thinks childe weak" when she was... quite literally speaking in past tense JSJSKDKSISKDK thats ajax 14 not the current state of things. while i do agree skirks power level is still way above his to the point i absolutely do think she considers him weak from her standpoint & ways off from his true potential, id also just.... like to point out that she pretty much confirms that her view of his competence has very much changed too? like please yall

skirk, who in all the years post ajax' 3 day abyss trip made NO effort to contact or keep up with him whatsoever and stated that her disciple wasnt worth even speaking to in the past has now LITERALLY voiced the intent to assign him the task of being a messenger between herself (possibly even surtalogi) and neuvillette. and she has made it VERY clear that she views the communication between herself and neuvillette (and traveler too) as one between equals?

this isnt her assigning childe some irrelevant side quest to keep him busy but actually utilizing him for a task she takes at least relatively seriously. like wdym she still considers him the exact same as before 😭😭😭😭 like obviously childes far off from being regarded as anywhere near an equal by skirk bc SHES just that insanely powerful but seriously. to me this is as clear an acknowledgement of his growth on her part as we will get JSJSKDKFKSKDKJ

but alas. everyone loves a "ha ha childe so weak XDDDD" like they just never wanna let that one go. Man

anyway still rly like skirk!!! all im Really hoping for in the future Especially w how i feel the 4.2 narrative while overall brilliant really sidelined and mishandled the potential and gravity of the narwhal side of things is that like. PLEASE let the interlude be the continuation to this 3rd descender n skirk n childe abyss situation i am so fucking tired of khaenri'ah and the abyss order im sorry lmao

also itll be like 4 years before we ever see her in Real action as a combatant but i am already So hype to see that. especially since her powers are so abyssal and alien in nature like thats going to be So gourmet i just know it.

[outlying-hyppocrate]

Dear Crispin: (A warning in advance as this will be long)

I write to you now at the edge of my consciousness, my body in a fugue state of transitional absentmindedness. Before long I will likely assume a different state, and as consequence lose my creative drive and passion for a short time. This is to say that I sympathise with your artist’s block, as something not so dissimilar blights me every few days.

Particularly, it centres around roughly a dozen individuals (separated into 3 stories) and their attempts to survive in this world. For the most part, this story and setting differs little from our own Earth, with the key difference of two things: the provable existence of the divine, and the existence of North and South Tasmia islands (existing in the stead of Australia).

These gods interact with the physical plane via two methods, each corresponding to their own methods of feeding. The gods grow in power as they are thought of more, growing in conceptual strength as they take up more space in the collective consciousness of mankind. So when they wish for good, consistent growth, they form contracts, granting mortals a fraction of a piece of a drop in their sea of power in return for a variety of sacrifices or rituals that bolster that god’s place in the common memory of humanity.

And when they are starved, seeking that rapid, growing, violent growth of fear and hatred. They create Saints, living, breathing conduits of their divine fury that render the earth asunder and fell cities in their footsteps. Both are methods of forcing more of humanity to think of them, and by cause grow in power, albeit one through love and the other through fear.

Gods exist for everything, hence their abundance. As Alek, a character in TLS once said,

“There is a god for everything. One for the chair your sitting on, one for the air you breath, one for the right root of your left upper premolar, like I said, for everything. As long as there is an idea for an object, like the idea that fire hurts, there is a god for it that can be worshipped and contracted.”

Furthermore, there exists the Lower Worlds, oft considered the realm of these gods, an infinite realm of infinite floors and no rules, each floor corresponding to a unique “frequency”, not unlike a radio, and each frequency applying to its given god.

But this very feeding method of the gods is the subject matter of my writing to you today, and explaining how it works. One of the many reoccurring concepts of TLS is the variety of explanations for these gods, how they so easily disrupt the laws of physics and why they function as they do.

Some argue that they are manifestations of some dormant force within the mind. Some argue that the Lower Worlds consist of a mirror matter, our minds paying off the entropic debt into this matter. Others that the gods are simply beings of a different dimension, poking their fingers in and spilling their rules into our own.

The issue is found, not in these solutions, but in the fact that each and every one of these interpretations works. They are all completely plausible explanations for every facet of the divine, each and every solution. This raises the question, which is the right one?

The answer, is all of them. You see, it is revealed late into the story that the Lower Worlds behave like quantum particles, their contents and rules existing in a superstate. If you are unfamiliar with the concept, it means that these worlds, and by extent the gods that are formed from them, are multiple things at once until observed, at which point they collapse into one possibility.

In other words, the Lower Worlds have no set rules, logic, or systems, only the ones we apply when we attempt to reconcile it. It is an amorphous sea of possibilities, collapsing into whatever form we grant it.

Like a liquid, it fills the container it is in, morphing to whatever people consider it to be. This is why the Lower Worlds lack the logic and reason of our world, for so many have differing views on its functions and logics, resulting in an ostensible lack of order.

This is why every solution to the gods works. This is why gods are intrinsically linked to concepts and how we apply to objects. This is why gods can so easily ignore our rules.

This dimension is one of undefined energy and possibility, a sea of potential superstates and wavelengths, collapsing in the exact moment a link between idea and thing is formed into one constant state, that state being a god.

When a god, or concept it thought of, it expands the definition and dimensions of that concept, granting it a “larger container” for it to inhabit, and by consequence granting it greater power.

If you link the ideas of fire and pain, as one so often does, a new god is birthed, one of painful flames. As more people grow to fear and love this god, more conceptual “mass” is granted to it, more access to the unending undefined energy within the Lower Worlds, expanding its reach into the infinite, explaining how they feed.

Apologies for both the length and strangeness of this rambling, as I had written this after many a month of conceptualising, and desperately desired some form of sharing this work of mine with a fellow mind.

Kind regards, Valerie

(PS: I truly pray non-religiously to whatever limbo of superstate energies hold power in our world that you may be free from that cursed block, and that the waters of creativity my flow in your fields once more)

dearest valerie,

[distortionincarnate]

Being an American RN is just like ah, more plane crashes? Ah, new strain of bird flu that infects humans? Ah, horrifying news happening every time you open the internet? I guess this is life now

[puckpocketed]

2/1/2024 Winter Classic - Seattle Kraken vs Vegas Golden Knights

The Summer I Fell For Hockey - The Perfect Day: On Yanni Gourde and the Narrative

A bank of fog rolls over the new year, over Seattle’s skyline, over the morning of the Winter Classic. T-Mobile park, after weeks of preparation, is transformed; sprouting up from the baseball diamond is a construct of ochre-red wood and glass, freshly frozen paint and ice, and boards that flash with sponsorships. A sea of people all in red, cream, navy and pale blue flood in to fill up the stands, 47,000 strong. There’s the retractable roof for insurance, in case Seattle weather decides to get in character, but for once the air stays dry and sunlight cuts through the fog in time for the match, winking warm and yellow and sweet from behind sparse cloud cover. In the future, today will be remembered as a near-perfect day for outdoor ice hockey. Continents and continents (and a hemisphere) away, the chime of a phone alarm rings out into a damp summer morning. It’s 6:30 am. It’s Kraken game day. I jolt awake.

The Vegas Golden Knights enter the arena dressed collectively as Elvis, shirts split open to the belly button, reflective of their city’s desert-dwelling glitterati. My Kraken come as fishermen, in work boots and hot red overalls, outfits made complete with fluro orange caps and stuffed fish. When it comes time to get onto the rink in their gear, the Kraken are introduced by Sir-Mix-a-Lot in a truly terrible mashup of his hits and ad libbed lines. As they make their way down the faux boardwalk, jets of fire spew forth intermittently, and real fishmongers from Pike Place Market toss fish between the players in an ode to their post-game tradition (the stuffed fish yeet) and the city of Seattle. The anthem is shredded by a 14-year-old local on electric guitar, to the stoic, patriotic acceptance of everyone watching. (Gods but hockey is such an unserious sport, and for this it will have my heart in perpetuity)

The rink is mic'd today, and I’m grateful. I love the sound of hockey; I love the sound of skate blades carving sibilant lines, the way sticks will clack against each other, against the gritty ice; and when the puck hits someone’s tape just right, there’s a now-familiar little zing deep in my reptilian brain that heralds satisfaction. One day, when my city hosts the AIHL (Australian Ice Hockey League), I’ll be right next to the rink and able to hear it all for myself, but for now this will have to suffice.

The Kraken start dominant, winning the first faceoff and instantly initiating a dump-and-chase. Their cheeks are blacked in an effort to stave off ice blindness, but I like to think they’ve donned war paint. In line with this, Tanev starts the festivities by slamming the Golden Knights’ Whitecloud in a brutal check. Today, with the mics hot, every thump and bump gets caught as bodies hit the boards. Neither team is holding back, some mutually agreed upon level of violence dialled up three notches. Unlike the check-heavy games I’ve watched in the past, there is no pall of malicious intent, no thin veneer of civility to cover up simmering anger from the get go. No; today the hits start clean. No penalties are called for first period.

Had it been two weeks ago, I’d have jumped on the opportunity to extol the virtues and skillset of our starting goalie, Joey. Later, the entire arena will shake with cheers of his name. Because I can’t resist, I’ll say this: he’s still unerringly good at trapping the puck to stop play and cause a reset, shuttering any build up of momentum and opportunities for rebounds; still going on his heart-stopping adventures out of the net and catching compliments from the broadcast on his exceptional stick handling; and the puck at times seems magnetised to his glove. Spoilers for the rest of the game: it’s a shutout, and after all those incredible stops I’m sure Jack Eichel will be kicking himself about being read like a book for days. 35 saves (his exact jersey number) and the first shutout in Winter Classic history. The story writes itself.  But enough of that — Joey’s low-hanging fruit.  And besides, I’ve already put pen to paper on the Dacs propaganda; it all still stands.

The hard checks keep coming. I get the feeling that something’s different today, that there’s something in the air apart from the perfect weather. Despite Vegas’ stellar record against the Kraken to date (8-1-0), the Kraken have a vice grip on the game. I’m so used to watching them chase games to stumbling, clumsy victories that this dominance feels surreal. They kill off the Knights’ attempts at transitioning, relentless in their pursuit and determined to play along the boards, keeping the puck largely out of their offensive zone. When the Knights do manage to drag it in, the Kraken d-men spare no effort viciously batting incoming pucks away from the slot, and should that fail — Joey’s right there to remind them just how good he is. It’s still a simple game, a steady and unembellished grind the way the Kraken like to play — but something about today makes me think that perhaps the elusive, gossamer thing called ‘luck’ is on their side. Perfect days don’t exist, until they do.

My Kraken score their first goal off a stylish deflection. Dunner skips the puck at Tolvy from the blue line, over Amadio’s stick and into traffic. The puck sails past a scrambling Knights defence, where Tolvy finds it midair and smacks it down, right into the back of the Knights’ net. The second goal materialises two minutes into second period, and so does the inciting incident for this essay (blog post/diary entry/unhinged hockey breakdown). After winning the puck off a scuffle along the boards Yanni Gourde legs it, sending it into Vegas’ side of the rink. There’s some back and forth, but ultimately Borgy picks up a goal with a slapshot off the rebound.

Gourdo (or Pumpkin, if the pun appeals) is the quintessential Kraken player. From his career, to his playstyle, to how he’s never come close to stardom — he is, to quote Nick Faris, someone that, “[...]embodies who the Kraken want to be.” He catches my attention today because of his tenacity, and because the liveblog tag goes hard for him as future captain. I’ve come to learn that where esports fans call it the Script, hockey fans use a different phrase. It’s all the same underneath: when everything fits so well, when it all begins to rhyme like poetry, when it’s so compelling that surely someone must’ve made it up — that’s the Narrative. 

Gourdo is short for a hockey player, standing at a modest 5ft 9in (175cm). That’s the first thing you’ll hear about him; that he’s at or below league average. The second thing you’ll hear is that he was never drafted. In a league filled with stories of stars — whose fans and media orbit the monsters of the game, a dozen or so point-scoring darlings — here’s Yanni Gourde, the man who was once a season away from giving up the ghost and getting a civil engineering degree, a rookie for the Tampa Bay Lightning at 26. This, too, is Narrative — a different kind I’d say, because when you hear about underdogs you imagine a scrappy, uncut gem finally breaking through to reach the top. Gourdo isn’t some secret prodigy, and the stats he’s put up since he got his chance in the NHL are solid, a career high of 25 goals and 64 points in 82 games during his time with the Lightning, but nothing like your McDavids or MacKinnons. But that’s all just paper. Out on the ice, though? That’s where the real story is happening.

If Sidney Crosby’s story is the Narrative, Gourdo’s story is like if the Narrative was stolen by a side character — which, fittingly, is exactly what some of the best narratives are all about. A quick Youtube search turns up the usual fluff pieces done by team media. A deeper scan reveals an unusual amount of short highlights, largely scrums and fights that he’s been involved with. In one of them he can be seen sporting his big, crooked grin. This is how I find out that Yanni Gourde is a pest. An instigator, a rat. Whatever you call it, Gourde shares hockey lineage with the likes of Brad Marchand.

In ice hockey, games are won and lost off the back of power plays and penalty kills. But with hitting and fighting at an all-time low, how does one draw penalties? Gourdo has it all figured out. He plays his own game, sticking just short of too close and pushing the envelope on interference. He’s gone on record talking about his extracurriculars, how he verbally and physically taunts opposing players after the whistle: “I know most of the time it works them up and they want to punch me in the face a little bit more. If they take a penalty on me, then, I am winning.” Gourdo treads the line of illegality and sportsmanship, and tips people over the edge in his wake, and when they retaliate they’re caught out and sent to the box.

Rats have a bad reputation in the NHL. Honour codes dictate that you back up any insults, physical or otherwise, should another player challenge you to drop gloves — the assumption being that any on-ice beef is genuine — an agitator’s actions are premeditated, calculated to wreak as much havoc as possible. This insincerity leaves a bad taste in the mouths of many. And yet, Yanni Gourde is beloved.

When he was selected by the Kraken in the expansion draft, Lightning fans made tribute videos. When he first returned to Tampa Bay as a visiting player, the arena shook with his fans' welcome. He is universally regarded by teammates, both past and present, as a leader and an overwhelmingly positive force in the locker room; someone who knows how to get silly (krakenblr-core!), who contributes to constructing good attitudes on the ice, someone who has stepped up to fulfil leadership duties when his teammates have been injured.

Beyond his instigation (and his remarkably sparkling reputation in spite of this), most interesting to me is a distinct pattern to the rest of his shot highlights. There’s nothing too complicated about it, even I noticed as a fan who’s still learning: Yanni Gourde has that intangible, ineffable clutch factor. For every clip where he’s in a scuffle, there’s another instance where he’s scored a game winning goal.

My working theory for why? He’s the guy who didn’t give up on his hockey dream even after being snubbed by the NHL and relegated to the AHL, who debuted as a starter 6 years later than most rookies, made himself a nuisance to play against at every turn with his relentless puck chasing and instigating. He’s Gourdo. So of course he’s got the clutch factor; he snatched his entire career from the jaws of retirement in the eleventh hour.

On a day like today, where the weather is perfect and the sticky late game ice has puck bounces going the Kraken’s way, it feels like the right time for something magical. And in a match filled with physicality Gourdo defies expectations, plays his own game and manages a miracle. Early in the third period, the Knights go for an offensive reset on a loose puck in the Kraken slot that goes shooting past the blue line. It looks completely standard. I’ve seen it a hundred times by now.

And then, racing down the ice there’s Gourdo. I expect a check, because that’s the type of game they’ve primed us for. It doesn’t come. Instead, Gourdo slips right up into Cotter’s space, right under his stick. Their skates cross once but there’s no hit, and with the barest brush… the puck is lifted out from under Cotter’s feet.

This blog is named for a silly pun on ‘pickpocketed’, because it was one of the very first hockey concepts that really captured my imagination. I became quietly obsessed with the idea of pickpocketing in ice hockey, fascinated by hulking athletes who know they don’t even need to hit anyone to win. There’s something so delightful about it; the idea that in ice hockey, a game that is notorious for semi-legal fist fights and whose actual rules allow the players to throw their hundreds of pounds at each other in service of victory, you could simply lose the puck to a thief. Whatever you call it — pickpocketing, puck stripping — it’s the result of refs who’ve become increasingly trigger-happy on calls, and a league-wide shift toward protecting its superstars from concussions.

For Gourdo, it’s a matter of necessity. Being smaller than most players, he has few other options. He can’t just rely on checking; he’s part of the new wave of players who’ve bought in on the puck possession game, scrapping and digging to steal the puck away with stick lifts and finesse rather than outright force. (Funnily enough, fellow pest Marchand is named in an article as another player whose game is shifting to focus on puck possession).

In the wider arc of the Narrative, it’s a perfectly Yanni kind of play. He steals the puck away from the Knights right in their slot, and is left almost one on one with their goalie as everyone else on the ice rushes to catch up. It’s not beautiful hockey — there is no well-timed deke, no lethal toe drag release — it’s just Gourdo wrestling control of the puck from the carved up ice, awkward and off-balance. The first shot doesn’t even go in, bouncing off of Thompson’s pad. But Gourdo is right there to catch it off the rebound, never giving up, always holding on, and he scoops it right over and into the net.

I know the game is finished for the Vegas Golden Knights after this. Call me biassed about my Sharks but I’ve seen when a team is still hungry for a win, and the Knights aren’t coming to the table. More than just the number on the scoreboard, in hindsight this goal feels woven into the fabric of the Narrative. It’s gorgeously messy, unexpected. It comes as a surprise to everyone watching, the broadcast barely able to keep up before the puck makes its way to the net. It’s Seattle waking up from a decades-long slumber to remind the world that it’s always been a hockey town, and the Kraken victory a ringing statement. It's another game winning goal for Gourdo, exactly like he’s always done.

It’s not quite perfect hockey, of course, not what people think of as clean or even technically proficient. But if you’ve watched any Kraken broadcasts you know what I’m about to say.

That’s Kraken hockey, baby!