#look. I have no explanation
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tldr I committed to a bit too hard
The slow-dawning sunlight dappled down through dense, rich foliage, scattering golden lace across mossy trunks and grassy hillocks. The light caught on the forest floor in a thousand glassy dewdrops and bent, fisheyed, in globed inversions of the canopy above.
No breeze stirred the forest so early in the morning, but a thin mist gathered in the valley under the warming air. Sunbeams lanced through the fog, pale in the dawn but soon to brighten and intensify. For now, the air was damp and cool and still, and the scent of the night lingered.
Pip bent a pawful of grass to the side and sniffed the air suspiciously.
It was too quiet, too still. And with no wind, she couldn't mark the position of the strange beasts and their odd, dusty, acrid scent that had no place in these woods. It hung low and directionless over the peaceful morning, distant but permeating, like a faraway fire.
She adjusted her backslung blade, wrapped her cloak closer around her and dropped onto all fours, nose pointed straight ahead and whiskers standing at attention. Her dusty green-gray wrap would shield her from all but the most attentive prying eyes, and - she quirked an ear, just to be sure of the silence - most of the forest was still asleep, unlikely to mark her passage.
She managed to stifle a flinch as a sound that wasn't a sound bypassed her ears and rang straight into her head.
Pip? Where'd you go?
She exhaled softly through her nose, the barest expression of frustration she allowed herself.
Scouting, Alder. Go back to sleep.
She set off before he could reply, scurrying silently along the mossy forest floor, tracing a sinuous route through the canopy's shadow to stay out of the slow-brightening sunbeams.
Scouting?!
The thought squeaked with disbelief. She didn't answer it.
Alder never had fewer than three thoughts at a time, and the more agitated he became, the harder they became to sort through. A jumble rang in her skull, a snatch of Eldest told us- and moves like thunder and have to hide, that last one echoing in six different ways with the significance it held in his mind. She concentrated on tracing her silent route, one shadow to the next, and came to a stop under a broad-leafed stalk as Alder's distress built to a crescendo.
If she kept moving, eventually she'd slip out of his range. Wasn't that a tempting thought.
I said go back to sleep, she sent, and with an afterthought of inexpert kindness, added I'm being careful. It'll be fine.
The chattering ground to a halt, and she felt the effort it took him to focus his thoughts down to a single thread. Come back, Pip. We have to stay hidden until they're all gone.
We can't hide if we don't know where they are.
Pip caught the beginning of his protest and shook herself violently, breaking off the connection. It was rude, she knew; closing her mind completely was one of her rarer talents, but unlike her other oddities, this one she wasn't particularly respected for. Her skills as a scout were admired precisely because she had such sharp senses, physical and mental both - some days she could even hear the slow, tangled thoughts of the Long Shadows - but when she didn't want to be disturbed, she could wall herself off from the others as thoroughly as if she'd been on the other side of the forest.
And right now, picking her way between treetrunks and sniffing her way towards the bizarre menagerie that had invaded her forest, the last thing she wanted was to be disturbed.
Her right forepaw sank in unexpectedly soft soil, and she recoiled with a stifled gasp. Her eyes darted across the swath of ground, analyzing its shape - and then she widened her scope, scanning the yards beyond that first strange softness. In a low-lying, hollowed track between two thick-rooted trees, the carpet of grass and flowers were flattened and crushed into a felted mat, mud bubbling through it in irregular patches like sickness in a wound. A wide track had been beaten into the soil by dozens - at least dozens, she amended - of flat-pawed creatures. Their dusty, acrid stink lay heavily over it.
She drew back from the unnaturally soft soil. Even with her diminutive size and weight, there was the risk of getting mired in unexpectedly watery ground, and while rescue was never far away in these woods, she certainly didn't want to weather Alder's overconcern or Eldest Luma's quietly smug passivity. Instead she skirted towards a point where the track narrowed, lashed her tail for a momentary burst in balance, then sprang over the mud and latched onto a tree root on the other side, freshly ripped free from the soil and scored with dozens of thin scars from the claws of the marching creatures. She scurried up and settled at the tree's base, where the gnarled roots tangled into a more-than-sturdy foothold overhanging the morass.
With the newfound advantage of height, she surveyed the terrain. The tracks overlapped one another in a mad scramble, pouring up from the lowland forest and curving up and away.
They moved with surprising organization for such motley creatures. She counted at least four very different sizes of print in the track, some barely longer than her own body (nose to the base of her tail) while some were large enough to crush her underfoot without even noticing.
The tracks were only a few hours old. The swarm must have passed in the early pre-dawn. She strained her memory to try and recall if she'd felt any tremors from down in the sleep-halls of the hollow, but if she were honest with herself, they were too far down and too well-insulated by the soft soil walls to have marked their passage.
She turned her attention to where the trail vanished from sight, curving over and up the slope. The land in that direction was treacherous and, to the mind of her people, best avoided. Gravel slips and rain rivulets ran down between the massive plates of rock that jutted out of the soil, and even though trees and flowers overgrew them, their roots could not be trusted to hold the ground together enough for safe passage of one of her size. Fresh rainfall unearthed and dislodged glassy chips of stone, and the soil turned to mud and slipped between the boulders, exposing treacherous chasms that could swallow an unwary traveler. The shattered earth built up and up until it abruptly skewed and slanted down in a gentle curve, like the ground had been struck with a terrible force and the shattering had rippled out from the center. And in the heart of that broken land, glimpsed fearfully from treetops or the shadow of the stones, lay the stronghold of the Long Shadows.
Once, long redmoons ago, Pip had traveled three days and nights to scale the shattered peaks herself, to see the stronghold with her own eyes (mostly due to a burst of rebellious curiosity after a scolding from Eldest Luma). The works of the Long Shadows could always be distinguished from natural formations or nests - they had a love of smooth things, and the stone they shaped stretched cleanly skyward and bore no footholds beyond the straight, geometric fissures that ran up and through them. So Pip already knew that the stronghold was encircled by a massive shadowcrafted cliff, pale and smooth as ice and taller than trees, and it surrounded the entire stronghold just behind the shattered peaks. Beyond the wall, great columns and cliffs jutted skyward, more smooth handicraft of the Long Shadows. At times they were even spotted outside the walls, tending great swaths of land in the same precise straight lines they shaped their stone. Those tracts bore vast quantities of food in unnatural abundance, some that grew nowhere else in the valley, but the Long Shadows guarded them closely and harshly punished intrusion, and the Eldest three generations before Luma had forbade anyone from entering (or even approaching) their strange geometric works, no matter how lean the winters became.
She debated following the trail. It would inexorably lead her towards the stronghold, but if the creatures were focused solely on the Long Shadows, that was valuable information to bring back to the hollow. No doubt Eldest Luma would be pleased to have yet another reason to avoid the Long Shadows and their works.
A sudden awareness prickled in the small of Pip's back, shivering up into her ears and all the way down to the tip of her tail. Her gray fur bristled and she froze, eyes darting wildly, seeking the source. The feeling had no obvious impetus, but she trusted her tail with her life, and something was happening. Something sourceless, something…
At the base of the root she was balanced on, a sprout punctured the trodden soil and curled upwards, splitting into pairs of pale green leaves. She watched as it climbed to twice her height in less than three beats of her racing heart.
Instinct took over. She scampered up the tree like a shot, finding footholds in the bark with a practiced ease that belied her jolting terror. She plunged into the safety of the leafshadow and clung to a branch, breathing fast and shallow and trying very hard to stay quiet.
Below her, a green carpet spread across the mire as grass and flowers bloomed impossibly fast.
The Weeping Shadow was approaching.
Pip strained her ears and caught the hint of a whisper of movement through the grass, distant and soft but certainly coming closer. It was pointless to cast her eyes towards the darkness - The Weeping Shadow was, in the stories, always swathed in gray, near invisible in the shadow of the canopy, and it passed in many tales without a trace, save for its flowering footsteps as its passage drove the forest to frenzy.
But it never came so close to the stronghold. The Weeping Shadow's domain was the deep and tangled woods, much further into the valley than even the hollow. It haunted the river and the wild places, and its realm was thick with plants of impossible vitality and sweetness - but not even the bravest scout dared its domain, even when hunger was rampant. The fruits of the Weeping Shadow's realm were steeped in an absolute sorrow whose depth defied comprehension, and the slow pulse of its thoughts churned in dark and wrenching misery that could be heard across half the valley. It was too much for the mind to take for long, and scouts that had strayed into its influence took moons to recover from the borrowed grief.
That had been the prickling on Pip's neck. The slow approach of the Weeping Shadow was already casting a pallor on her mind - and it was getting closer.
Pip's thoughts scrambled for her next move. If she stayed hidden, the Weeping Shadow would pass nearer to her than anyone had ever dared. She flattened her ears against her head and focused on the walls around her mind. Could she close herself to it strongly enough to hold out?
A wild fear beat against her ribs. She wanted to stay clinging to this branch forever, but she also wanted to bolt, to sprint the length of the branch and fling herself into open space, trusting the soft soil to cushion her fall - or rather, if she were honest with herself in that moment, heedless of what the fall might do to her. The desperate urge to flee was strong in her people, and here, faced with a terror closer than ever before, it was nigh overwhelming.
But Pip had a third instinct that overruled all others when she allowed it, and it had been slowly growing in her mind ever since she'd slipped from the hollow before the dawn. It was a hunger, of a sort, and one that warred always with fear. The hunger was curiosity, a thrumming urge for exploration and understanding that spurred her on through peril and dark for the promise of clarity on the other side.
The beasts in her forest were descending on the stronghold, and their passage had stirred the Weeping Shadow from its domain. Something was happening - something vast, something perhaps unknowable. But it would certainly stay unknowable if she didn't even try to know it.
And perhaps the Weeping Shadow knew.
Pip had more control than most over the openness of her mind. It alarmed her peers, sometimes, that she could pass among them in silence, unreceptive to their soundless speech. It unnerved them more, for those who knew - from a time when she was more open with her secrets and her strangeness - that she could at times hear the deep thoughts of the Long Shadows, and stranger still, sometimes even catch a shred of their meaning. The idea that the minds of the Long Shadows could in any way compare to the bright, clear thoughts of her people was on the surface laughable, and just under that surface, frightening. Still, she knew it was true. Their minds were dark, slow places, but they contained meaning and knowledge, most beyond the reckoning of her kind.
The mind of the Weeping Shadow was an abyss of grief and sorrow, but if she could attune her senses to it - if she could withstand its pressure - she could, perhaps, glean its purpose in the shattered peaks, and what it knew of the creatures that she pursued.
The underbrush cracked. Pip flattened herself against the branch and peered intently at the sound as the rolling wave of green spread under the tree, blanketing in every direction.
A shape moved in the shadow of the trees, ponderous and slow.
Pip felt her eyes grow hot and stinging, the space behind them heavy with unshed tears. A borrowed bottomless grief encroached on the walls of her mind, lapping at it like a swelling river threatening its banks.
The Weeping Shadow broke from the treeline and stepped forward.
It towered, even from Pip's high vantage point. It was gray and still and almost shapeless in the dim of the canopy, but twin lights glimmered near its summit, pale green like the sprouts boiling at its feet.
Pip's head pounded. The pressure of its presence was terrible. It was vast, yes, but the power of the sorrow within it seemed vaster still - like all the forest around it was desperate to weep, and the Shadow was the only part of it that could, yet it refused to.
The Shadow tilted its head down, and the lights of its eyes vanished in the gloom. But it was not weeping, Pip knew. It was… looking.
Looking at the tracks under its carpet of grass.
Pip gritted her teeth, gripped the branch, and opened her mind.
It was gentler than she had anticipated. The pressure and power was indescribable, but once she stopped trying to push it back, she found it moved her rather like water would - with force, but without pain. It was almost easy to let the thoughts of this vast creature buffet her where they would.
The words in the Weeping Shadow's mind were unknown to her, but she felt a snatch of them repeating over and over again. The words mattered less than the feeling that drove them, and as she focused, she realized that the Weeping Shadow was, in some way, at war with itself; the thoughts were not all in agreement. The repetition smelled of deep, old terror, but its loop was broken over and over again by a different, newer thought - one that Pip herself was intimately familiar with, strong enough that she needed no translation to parse it:
But I can help.
Dimly, in her faraway body, she felt tears pouring from her, hot and desperate from a grief she couldn't fathom. Her claws gripped the bark of the branch. The Weeping Shadow's thoughts, at the moment, were focused on its inner war, but it did nothing to shield Pip from the substrate of its misery. Still, she was onto something. If she could just push through, she might learn what the Weeping Shadow understood of the intruders to their forest.
Pip dug deeper. The Weeping Shadow knew what these creatures were - knew what they intended - believed it could help in some way - but what did it know of them?
Running below the looping dread and the punctuating bursts of hope, Pip glimpsed a glimmering ribbon of understanding wending its way just below the Weeping Shadow's conscious thought. It snaked under the fear, coiled around the thought of help. This had to be the knowledge that had motivated the Weeping Shadow's unheard-of migration. This was the mystery of the creatures answered.
This, perhaps, was Pip's only mistake. As she caught the thread of that understanding, it abruptly yanked against the current and plunged her down, down, down into the icy depth of the Weeping Shadow's truest misery. Its knowledge of these creatures came from the same bone-deep wellspring as the torrent of tears, and Pip screamed aloud as it battered her mind full-force. Alien thoughts crashed against her, unbearably loud; the grinding of bone, the shifting of stone, the pounding of waves greater than any river, the splintering of mighty trees. A twisting, a breaking - a power like a maddened, wild animal, thrashing and uncontrollable, kept in check only by its own terrible exhaustion and grief. She was so, so small, and somehow in the depths of this vastness she was even further diminished, crushed to a single point of light-
And something was watching her.
With a last mighty burst of willpower she released the thought-thread, flung herself away, and tumbled off the branch. It was something of a mercy that she was too stunned to feel the impact, and the carpet of seedlings cushioned her fall.
The first thing she became aware of was her breathing, high and fast and shallow in time with her racing heartbeat, real panic and borrowed sorrow draining away with shocking rapidity. Second, she felt the pain; her head pounding with spent exhaustion, her paws cramped in every joint, her back and shoulders bruised from where the impact of the fall had driven her scabbarded blade against her spine.
The third thing she became aware of was the shadow stretching towards her, claws stretched as long as her whole body, the deep purple of the skies after dusk.
The Weeping Shadow loomed over her, vaster than mountains. Two points of green pierced out from the dark.
She ran.
#aurora#prose writing#look. I have no explanation#well no I do have an explanation#and I'm curious if this makes literally any sense to anyone but me#but I had fun and that's what counts#pip's fine I have plenty more ideas for her
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going through my old journals as part of therapy homework and i'm reading a section written in the emotional wreckage of a full-on breakdown when i get hit with this line:
There is never a satisfying answer to ‘Why didn’t they love me?’
like wow babe. good fucking point
#like you were on the ground biting the carpet and dry sobbing while you wrote that and still. good fucking point#not a shitpost#cptsd#and it's true. there's never a satisfying answer#the truth is i know why i wasn't loved#i analyzed my parent's traumas and abuse to death. i understand why i alienated and was alienated from my siblings#i know why my mom was too overwhelmed to be capable of nurturing#i know why my dad vanished into addiction and avoidance#the details of our cycles of trauma and cptsd and family history i have a phd in all of it#i understood perfectly. i spent years studying and now i knew the answer#and guess what? IT WAS NOT SATISFYING!!!#because they still didn't love me! and i still couldn't change that!#it was still a completely unsatisfying state of affairs!#so like. when the people who are supposed to love you...don't.#when the people who are supposed to take care of you...fail to#you can look for answers and reasons and explanations#but that's not actually going to FIX your situation.#and it's probably not within your ability TO fix the situation. (and definitely not your job)#because you don't need answers--you need a new situation#*inserts Just Walk Out. You Can Leave!!! (Running Skeleton) Meme*#and yes. walking out isn't always possible.#but for you i hope it will be one day soon. and i hope you build the courage to take that leap.#stepping away from the people who failed to love you...it feels like being untethered but also like being lighter than air#new and scary. immensely relieving. the future opens up. empty but empty like a canvas. blindingly bright until your eyes adjust#like climbing out of a pit you called home and for the first time realizing how bright the light of day can truly be#when you aren't just getting glimpses from the bottom of a hole
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ALPHA KIDS: Draw your best friends!
DIRK: I'd say I'm better at one on one character interaction work of the more intimate variety, but I think this piece came together nicely. DIRK: Fun for the whole family style wholesomeness, any motherfucker in the radius of a screen displaying this image will instantly get hit with a sore case of heartburn and their tear ducts will clock in overtime at the weeping factory.
ROXY: im so proud of these i think these are my best designs yet :3 but omg dirk callie and jake were SOOO peculiar about their damn designs over my shoulder. jake wanted me to clarify that even in pink pen form his little guy is BLUE. so there. sigh this is the one occasion they could take notes from janey.. JUST LET LE ARTIST WORK!
JANE: Boy! I don't draw often but I always was fond of calligraphy growing up. I was kind of inspired by all of the other's works, but especially Calliope's swirls she puts in her art. It's very fun to add!
JAKE: Im not quite the best with posing, but i find the head very fun to study! Especially skulls.. so good ole calliope makes for the perfect muse! (hehe)
CALLIOPE: i realized i hadn't ever made a piece with Us in the same place at once. u_u CALLIOPE: bUt since it's reality now here's all of Us together, United at last! ^u^
==->
#homestuck#alpha kids#dirk strider#jake english#calliope#jane crocker#roxy lalonde#dirkjake#callieroxy#my art#zan0tix#This was so fun tho Im dipping my toes into homestuck writing.. be prepared.. projects are in the works people#I have detailed explanations and references for jane and jakes styles and why they look that way but basically.#For jane i referenced her handwriting and june and jades art styles#and jake loves comics! and he very quietly observant (brain ghost dirk) without knowing it and he had bold fast hand writing so i think-#hed be a good sketcher#I SHOULDVE BEEN THERE IN THE 2010S MAN. I SHOULDVE BEEN MAKING STUFF LIKE THIS BACK THEN. whatever#making up for it now </3
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shigeo & mob
#mp100#mob psycho 100#shigeo kageyama#song translation: and at some point i have to come out i can’t spend all day living inside myself#-looking for reasons of what was not or explanations for what i wasnt#wos te amo#icaroart
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i imagine it's quite chilly in the black sea (for the lack of sun and color), so they're wearing slightly warmer clothes now uwu
+ thoughts
#i was meaning to only draw jay to try and figure out a design for her *once more*#but i was super happy with the first one i did so i drew the boys in slightly changed outfits instead#also yeah im VERY pleased with this outfit for jay. the colors look sooo good and exactly like i imagine them to look#the pants are not straight up green but they have this green ish hue to them that adds a lot i think#quite happy with chip's and gill's outfits too they're very sexy and cool hehe#gill in the turtleneck with short sleeves-- so good. and i gave him a haramaki!!!!!!!!!!! hell yeah the one piece fan in me is happy#and chip in the high waisted pants and these boots-- brooooo. slaying so hard. and he's wearing a proper shirt which is rare#also. there's a lot of typos in the explanations probably. um. yeah. not always looking at what i write#edit: forgot the actual tags whoops#jrwi riptide#jay ferin#jrwi chip#gillion tidestrider#my art#sketch
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so is the sbpd's two-way-mirror setup just kinda shit and no one's realized, or can shawn spencer actually just. perceive things through two-way-mirrors? is the implication that his knowledge of lassiter's behavior is so complete, he's just able to predict his precise position and actions with perfect timing? this is never explained.
#the second two explanations are batshit insane but i kinda fuck with them as ''actual psychic shawn spencer'' au fodder#i thought the first one was unlikely bc surely someone else would have noticed#but then i suppose shawn's whole deal is noticing little things that no one else ever does and exploiting them#i looked it up and apparently if the ligting ratio between each room is off#you can actually see through the reflective side and into the other room#so maybe one of the bulbs was dying or smth and the change in light level was just enough for shawn to see#this is about the scene immediately after the intro in s3e4 ''the greatest adventure in the history of basic cable''#psych#shawn spencer#carlton lassiter#running my mouth
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Pokémon Trainer Tang ❤️
I remembered I have free will… so I combined my two favorite things hehehe
#lmk tang#lmk au#pokemon#crossover#Pokémon Trainer! Tang#my art#lmk fanart#lmk#lego monkie kid#look at all his little guys#I have an explanation for all of them#I think the monkey crew would each have a different eeveelution#I should do Pigsy next
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I know Heimerdinger's Christian Linke's favorite character, and I sort of tolerated it in s1, but now it feels like things are a little too indulgent. Heimerdinger gets to team up with Ekko to launder his reputation through Ekko and the Firelights. Heimerdinger gets the first narrative game and second character teaser in the promotional cycl. Heimerdinger gets to SING A SONG that's included on the s2 Arcane soundtrack (Spin the Wheel).
Maybe I'd be less annoyed if the show at least did more to acknowledge Heimerdinger's failings as a leader, but his character description can't even do that. This is how the official Arcane website describes Heimerdinger:
"Heimerdinger warned the Piltover Council about the dangers of using magic without tangible solutions for safeguarding its use. Learning from his mistakes with Jayce, Heimerdinger inspires Ekko to keep looking for a solution and works with him to solve the problem, instead of just offering advice."
That's not Heimerdinger's main problem! The problem is the fact he's the person most singularly responsible for the state of Zaun and Piltover. It feels like the show and the cast are just dancing around the fact that Heimerdinger technically has the highest body count in the show (Day of Ash, pollution, extreme poverty, etc). The one time someone puts him to task (Jayce), the show makes it seem like Jayce is wrong or overstepped, and yeah he did do it for Viktor's sake, but Jayce was right! Heimerdinger's bad at his job, he shouldn't be in a leadership position if he's a bad leader.
#arcane#arcane ramble#heimerdinger#they probably didn't include heimer in the scene where the council gives the greenlight for enforcers#to shakedown zaun#but inaction is still a choice it's still a failing politically and morally#it still makes him look bad and i don't know if the showrunners really get WHY#that's why the decision to have Ekko be paired with Heimerdinger is so baffling#it ignores the weight of the Heimerdinger's impact as a leader and is frankly a disservice to Ekko's character#and really any character from zaun or even piltover that cannot take the 2 nanoseconds it requires to recognize how heimerdinger failed them#and the explanation that ekko respects heimerdinger as an inventor and they connect as such is kind of ridiculous#does that mean if silco had an engineering degree suddenly he and ekko could be bffs?#alright I've said my piece about this oversized troll doll#maybe I'll say more after s2#almost definitely#also I'll always be on Jayce's side for kicking heimerdinger out#he was objectively rught that heimerdinger shouldn't be there#Heimerdinger's still president of the Academy he's just not council member#why work in policy if you're uniterested politics?
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Playing around with half-dragon Warriors. Inspired by chapter 23 of @skyward-floored’s whumptober fic.
Just wanted to play with Warrior’s dragon features and what his “performance” would be in his and Legend’s uh new job 😅
Also had this AMV on repeat most the time I was drawing this so you can get a vibe of what inspired Warrior’s “dragon dancing”
#look I don’t have an explanation#I just read the chapter and was like “Warriors could do sword dancing with the baby dragon#and here we are#there are more sketches but they are ATROCIOUS and you will Not see those#hd warriors#lu warriors#ink the dragon#going with that for the dragon’s name until I’m told otherwise#my art#artist of tumblr#tumblr artist#fanart#art#colored pencils#watercolor practice#watercolorpainting#sketchbook#lu fanart#tloz au#tloz fanart#half dragon warriors#sky I hope you’re okay with the design#hdw#hdw link#lu fanfiction#fanfic rec
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Did Carlos go to law school or did he don’t didn’t go to law school
from landofmotorsport
#carlos sainz jr#scuderia ferrari#f1#Charles’ look up lmao he was shooketh#Carlos’ ‘what?’ and lean in he was so confused he couldn’t hear properly#he’s also always leaning in to ppl to hear. he’s an old man#and then him turning to Charles as if he would have an explanation for why they think he studied law#his short ‘no’ when they clarified help#poor woman read about sr instead of jr#‘I never went to university actually’#and he sounds so proud of it lmao#but also remember he is proud of finishing high sch#remember that time he solved a math problem and said ‘you can see I finished school eh? not many drivers did I think’#ok intellectual#c2#c square#charlos#charles leclerc#austin 2024
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'The Polar bear at Blair Atholl,' 2024.
#em draws stuff#the terror#harry goodsir#franklin expedition#a ponderment on fucked up polar bears heavily inspired by the 'nanoq: flat out and bluesome' art exhibition by snæbjörnsdóttir/wilson#short explanation of which is that it was a photographic survey of all 34 taxidermied polar bears in the uk#including the one the only blair atholl polar bear. yes it really looks like that.#(they fixed it up some in 2016 but it's still narsty. highly recommend googling this particular beast.)#this is what happens when you put a polar bear on display in 1786 (at the least) and you Keep It There for twohundredsome years#ANYWAY. hey mr goodsir why'd you go to nunavut to see a very bad polar bear when you had a very bad polar bear at home#<- JOKE. i am allowed to do big ponderment art and also have myself a little jonk in the same post. farewell now.
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My two cents on Aziraphale's "I forgive you" is that he was straightforwardly lashing out. He knows how little Crowley wants to be forgiven. He knows because Crowley just told him. Crowley rejects forgiveness so absolutely that he rejects Aziraphale right along with it. It's the whole fight in a microcosm: Aziraphale standing there offering forgiveness and Crowley saying, I don't want it.
So maybe the words are Aziraphale showing he finally understands Crowley. He knows now that "I forgive you" is the very worst thing he could say to Crowley. That's why he says it. That's how he means it.
#good omens#good omens meta#there might be different nuances to this if you assume there was something more going on in their fight#but i think this is the face value reading of the line#and any alternative explanations have to start here#look it's just if you watch his face he settles on ANGRY before he says it#he says i forgive you but he doesn't mean i forgive you#he means *fuck you*#i also think this ties in very well to his opening image of forgiving Maggie's rent#in an opening and closing image you want to show change you want to dramatically contrast where the character is at#we open with Aziraphale forgiving thousands of pounds without a thought#saying 'I'm very good at forgiveness'#and we close on him facing something he cannot forgive#(in that moment. obviously he and crowley will reconcile.)#fable talks good omens
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i thought we were gonna kiss up here are you still not over your dead girlfriend
#the walking dead game#twdg#violentine#clementine twdg#violet twdg#theres no casual explanation for clems reaction to that why did she look so upset#wide eyed middle distance stare brows drawn mouth open girl please relax#if your friend was wistfully thinking of their dead gf why would you be upset by that 🤨 hmm interesting#part of violets route will be about how she feels she failed minnie and so refuses to fail clementine and continuously makes that choice#and i still have to hear people yap about how she never got over minnie bro i swear some people are playing with their eyes and ears closed#i think her complicated relationship with her not dead not ex is fun and interesting actually and she tells clem not to worry Immediately#i just like poking fun at my girl for being a little jealous 😏 this and the way she looks at them hugging in the woods. i know what you are#her immediate reaction to seeing the v+m heart is also questionable girl why are you making those faces#spaced art 2024
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#lando norris#look#i have no explanation#just look at him#the eyes#the face#his pointy little ears#the curls#THE CURLS!!!#i don't even hate the chin fluff
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Another bonus to learning a fiber art is being able to speak to others in a Lovecraftian language that nobody else understands...
...and also being able to read things like THIS:
#art#crochet#fiber art#described images#image description in alt#used a crochet pattern for this because it's just INSANE#see i can recognize some of these stitch markings but i haven't done them all yet#i actually kind of prefer the diagram pattern because it actually shows you the shape and the way stitches compliment the piece#with a 'normal' pattern (e.g. 1 dc in fifth ch from hook ch 2 4 dc) i understand it sure but. it isn't the same.#i was reading somebodys recommendations for tapestry yarn and understood all the abbreviations and what they mean#plus i feel like diagrams can be a great way to teach you not only how stitches look but how they contribute to the larger piece#one of my crochet proficiency goals is to be able to look at a piece and know instantly what made it#*cue me at the store analyzing a crochet piece so i can replicate it for 5× the cost*#if you're selling a crocheted piece for like $20 then it's my imperative to replicate it and not buy it 🫡#i think that has the same moral implication as like... 'proplifting'#did crochet as the example because thats what i do as a fiber art. if theres a similar thing for knit/weave/ect then DROP IT BELOW I BEG YO#i want to learn all the lovecraftian languages of the fiber artists <3#i feel like describing the image in exactly what stitch marking indicates what would have been too much so hopefully the explanation as to..#...what the diagram DOES and how it visually indicates a pattern was helpful <3
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Joe 1.0 vs. Joe 2.0
You know, I keep seeing posts that are like "oh, My Stand-In is doing it all wrong, we should see the face/body of Joe 2.0 more often, not just in random reflections, we should see Joe 2.0 when other characters comment on his appearance, it's confusing, we should–"
Guys. You are looking at it all wrong. You don't understand. You just don't fucking get it.
It. Is. All. On. Purpose!
Because Joe's story is told from Joe's POV. It's the story of the first Joe, the stand-in Joe, who, yes, is currently residing in the body of Joe 2.0, but his mind is the same. From Joe's POV, he's still the original Joe, you see? Maybe his hands look different to him or whatever, but unless he sees himself in the mirror, he isn't the model Joe, he's just Joe.
Like... You know that feeling when you dye your hair, you're well aware you've dyed your hair, you can sometimes glance the different color from the corner of your eye or whatever, but then it's two days later and you randomly look in the mirror and once again go "woah, hold on, that's right, my hair's bright red now".
That's exactly what's happening to Joe. He knows he is in the body of Joe 2.0, but his brain isn't really comprehending it unless he is literally seeing himself. That's when it hits him. That's when he realizes, again and again and again, that his old body is gone. But when he's just talking to other characters? He's still him.
(Unless they really need to drive it home that he's not, like when he meets Ming in that elevator for the first time.)
See, they are not failing to tell the story by not using Joe 2.0's face enough. They are actually telling it exactly the way they want it.
And it's fucking beautiful.
#my stand in#my stand in the series#sorry not sorry#but it really drives me insane when i see those complaints#because there is a perfectly good expanation#an amazingly angsty explanation#and some people just cannot fucking see it#(and no i have not been going “woah my hair is red” every time i looked in the mirror in the past four days. no sir.)
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