#manys opinion posts

[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.

[hinamie]

subject, specimen, spectacle;

should i say that you're dead?

[taradactyls]

It's thinking about Darcy desperately yearning running into Elizabeth at Pemberley hours.

Like, you fell in love with this woman, but rationally (pridefully) you though it wasn't something you should pursue. But you can't forget her, and then she's at Rosings... and the more you see her - with her wit, her eyes, the liveliness of her mind - the more she undoes every expectation of who you should marry that you'd ever had. You prolong your trip to see more of her, you start imagining what it will be like married to her and unwisely after only seeing her again for a week begin asking how she'd feel living far away from Longbourn, and even hint things like she'd be staying at Rosings next time she visits Kent.

It's too much. You're feeling too much.

She's due to visit for tea the night before you take leave, and an evening gives far more opportunity for privacy and conversation than sitting in Mrs Collins' drawing room for half an hour the next day.

But she doesn't come, she's feeling ill, and you won't see her. If you don't make an effort, you might never see her again. It's not like Bingley will be going back to Netherfield anytime soon, after all.

You bail on the evening and go check if she's ok.

It's late, but you have to see her.

She's not super friendly when answering your questions about whether she's feeling better, yet that's to be expected when someone has a headache. But she's there, sitting with you quietly, and then you're so agitated that you begin pacing.

It's inescapable. You love her too much.

You'll marry her, and deal with all the impropriety of her family's connections and behaviour. She's worth it.

Because of course she'll say yes. You've been so open that she must be expecting your addresses. It doesn't occur to you that you're wrong to assume she's wishing for it.

Then she rejects you.

And she doesn't only reject you: she shatters your entire perception of self. Not immediately - oh, she creates a large crack, but it takes some time for you to do justice to her words. But they linger, inescapably.

"Had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner."

You're bitter, and angry, and hurt, and offended, and the sense of doubt isn't going away. But there is one thing you can do, that you have to do.

You write her a letter to explain yourself against the accusations she levied your way - some unjust, but others will eventually gnaw at you until you're forced to face them and stare directly at all the faults you didn't know you had.

You know it won't make her accept you.

The turn of her countenance you'll never forget, as she said that you could not have addressed her in any possible way that would induce her to accept you.

But you need to write the letter: to explain, to warn, and maybe - just maybe - make her think a little better of you.

If she even gives credit to anything you say.

She thinks so little of you she might dismiss your arguments and only hate you more for what you said of her family.

God, you basically insulted her family again in the letter. With an apology, yes, and as an explanation, but you knew at the time that those comments and what you divulged of Wickham would give her pain. But it's necessary. You still believe that, even as time goes on and you begin to wonder if all it achieved was making her hate you more.

The last time you saw her was as you handed her that letter.

She hadn't spoken.

You weren't yet master of your emotions enough to see her and be friendly, the best you could do was try be composed.

If only you'd been truly as calm and composed as you thought you were when you wrote that letter. You can see now that you wrote in a dreadful bitterness of spirit. There were some expressions you used, the opening of it, which alone would be enough to justify her hate. Though, despite your emotions, you never doubted for a moment in her goodness - never doubted that she won't spread around what you divulged of your sister.

She hates you, but all the reasons you love her are still there.

That's something that doesn't change as you slowly unravel the flaws her reproofs revealed to you and you try to become the person you always thought you were. So many behaviours, and the emotions that governed them, were not what they ought to be. Your principles were always good but you followed them in pride and conceit.

You were blind until she cut you to the quick. Opened your eyes to yourself and taught you such a hard lesson - but it was for the best. She properly humbled you and taught you how insufficient all your pretensions were to please a woman worthy of being pleased. Even if you never see her again you will be worthy of the title gentleman.

You will work to become the person you want to be.

Her rejection doesn't hurt so much as the knowledge that she was right and you failed yourself and so many others. Any anger or blame you felt for her words when refusing your hand are long since passed. If she had been able to overlook those flaws she wouldn't have been the woman you love.

The more you reflect and seek to rectify your behaviour the clearer it all becomes. In trying to understand yourself you realise that so many of these flaws have existed almost your whole life. And yet, despite how obvious it now seems, you had no idea.

Though your parents were good themselves they spoilt you - first as an only child, then as an only son - and you grew selfish and overbearing, caring only for your small family circle. Thinking meanly of the rest of the world, wanting to think meanly of their sense and worth compared to your own.

You owe the world so much better.

Your position, far from giving you leave to treat others as inconsequential, means you have a duty to think of others and ensure they are not wronged. Yes, you've done that broadly - especially on your estate, and always with servants and the poor - but what of in smaller ways, to those closer to your own rank? Have you directly treated them with civility and respect?

You know the answer now, but you're doing your best to fix it.

For almost four months, you ruminate on her words and turn yourself into a gentleman you can respect. Someone worthy of the respect you've so rarely had to actually earn. Someone who might've been worthy of her respect from the beginning.

You've never stopped loving her.

Almost four months, and you're not sure if you'll ever see her again.

You certainly weren't expecting to leave the stables after arriving at Pemberley and find her standing in front of your house.

Your eyes meet.

You freeze in place.

Four months of distance and then twenty yards away from each other.

She's blushing (so are you).

Your brain is too surprised to work.

She's here.

She's here and you're just standing there.

You have to go to her. Even if you didn't still love her, it's the polite and friendly thing to. (But you do still love her, and so her presence is a physical weight in your chest that you could scarce resist).

She had turned away briefly, but turns back when you approach.

You hardly know what you say, she hardly raises her eyes to meet yours, but you hear her voice, and she doesn't sound annoyed when she answers that her family is well.

Honestly, despite how discomposed you are by seeing her without time to prepare, your instinct is to stay by her. Even if it means speaking like a fool. You're pretty sure you ask her when she started travelling and how long she's been in Derbyshire at least thrice. But you start to recollect yourself, breathing a little more evenly, and run out of things to say. Remembering that she's here with friends and you've just come from the road, you take your leave.

Your thoughts stay with her though.

She was still just as lovely as ever. More civil to you than you have any claim to.

Your housekeeper says a gentleman and two ladies were taking a tour of the house, and have now gone with the gardener to see the accustomed part of the park. You know the place.

As your valet helps you change your thoughts solidify: you can meet them, and, through every civility in your power, show her that you aren't resentful of the past.

She's so close, and you can't lose this chance to perhaps obtain her forgiveness, lessen her ill opinion, by showing that her reproofs have been attended to.

And, maybe, you're just desperate for any excuse to see her.

By now, you've been in love with her for more than eight months, despite trying, really trying, to forget her both when you left Hertfordshire and Kent. It's pointless, either you'll recover in time or you'll spend the rest of your life in love with her. At this point you don't even want to fight it. Despite the pain of her not feeling the same way, she did you the greatest good anyone could, by showing you who you really were. You improved yourself because you should, without any expectation of seeing her again, but one thing that you can't alter about yourself is your love for her.

Right now, what matters is being near her and showing her you can be a real gentleman.

So, you follow her and her companions to the stream.

She speaks first this time. Putting herself forward to be friendly and polite. Proof, surely, that she doesn't hate you so much anymore? She's almost her usual smiling self, though she goes red and silent while admiring Pemberley's beauty.

You can understand why - you had determined to not ask whether she liked your home in case it sounded like you were wondering whether she regretted rejecting you and thus Pemberley. You know she didn't mean anything by her praise (and she'd known you were rich when she turned you down) but you understand her sudden embarrassment.

Although... when did she start caring that you might misunderstand her and think badly of her? She didn't care the last time you met.

But that's not important now. It's for you to ease the conversation and prove yourself. So you change the subject, and ask her to do the honour of introducing you to her friends.

Her surprise is obvious, and fair. Seeking the acquaintance of strangers, even respectable-looking ones, just wasn't something you used to do regardless of what the well-bred and civil action was.

And what does it say about you - with all your newfound respect and civility - that you're still surprised when the fashionable couple she's with turn out to be the very aunt and uncle you'd previously declared would be a disgraceful connection. You recognised you were wrong to be so dismissive, so rude, but the core assumption that the tradesman brother of Mrs Bennet and his wife must be noticeably vulgar had clearly remained. Yet here they were, everything elegant and well-bred.

How right Elizabeth had been about you.

But now you can show her that was the past, and your manners are improved and prejudices lessened.

You walk back with them, talking to the uncle, who has intelligence, taste, and sense. You like him a surprising amount. He points out trout in the water, and you're glad to invite him to fish here while they stay in the area. You have all the supplies he might need, and know the best spots. As you speak with him your attention is only half distracted by who walks behind you at a short distance.

Hopefully her uncle's happiness makes her happy also.

You have the chance to see, when the walking arrangements change and then she's the one walking beside you.

Honestly, you're not immediately sure what to say, but again, she speaks first.

Yes, she almost certainly doesn't hate you anymore.

Her explanation that she'd been assured of your absence before visiting sounds more like she doesn't want you to think her rude, than expressing disappointment that you are here.

Yes, whatever her past insults, she definitely cares that you don't think badly of her...

As though you ever could.

In mentioning why you returned a day early you mention who you're with, and too late saying Bingley's name reminds you that the last time you two spoke of him was when she (rightfully) blamed you for separating Bingley and her sister.

That silences you for a moment - but she doesn't respond with anger.

Composing yourself, you ask if your sister might be introduced to her. You've spoken of Elizabeth so highly to Georgiana, and so often, that your sister would love to meet her. You don't need to ask - your sister is the social superior, her wishing for the acquaintance is strictly enough for the introduction to be made - but you want to. You mean it, when you ask Elizabeth whether you're asking too much by facilitating the introduction. You want her to have the chance to say no.

But she says yes.

(Even sounding pleased about it, though surprised.)

Which is also a yes to seeing you again during her stay at Lambton. Renewing your acquaintance, despite everything.

The happiness, however irrational, this creates cannot be quelled.

You love her too dearly to not appreciate every fragile overture and sign that she must no longer think you so bad. The letter - your own improved civility - one or both has done away with her dislike.

Replaced it with... well, anything other than dislike is a place to begin.

This time the silence stretches as you walk; she, perhaps, just as lost in thought as yourself.

You could get used to walking around Pemberley with her.

A dangerous thought.

You scarce know what to say as you wait by the carriage for her aunt and uncle to catch up, after she declared herself not tired when you asked if she wanted to come into the house. But, again, she makes the effort to talk to you. You've never spoken of Matlock or Dovedale so persistently, but you want to keep talking to her - hearing her voice - receiving her smiles - for every moment that you can steal.

Four months apart and then the first day seeing her again your heart loves her more than ever before.

And she no longer hates you.

You would have them all come inside, take refreshment, stay, please stay a little longer, but they felt it was time to return to the inn. They're leaving, but you've already organised to bring your sister to see her the day after tomorrow, so it's only a short parting.

Not another four months.

You hand her aunt up into the carriage - and then Elizabeth.

Who is dearest and loveliest to you still, though you might never be able to say those words to her.

You're so aware of feeling her hand in yours, though gloved; the weight and warmth of it. The brief tightening of her fingers on yours as she takes the step up, leaving you bereft when she lets go.

You don't watch them drive away, though you feel her absence palpably as you slowly walk back to the house.

But it's only two days - two days before you'll see her again.

And they're staying for a little while.

All of it is more chances to show her the person you are now. Both the good qualities you never properly revealed before, and the newer ones deliberately acquired to remedy the errors she revealed. Show her you're a man she might admire.

Perhaps a man she might one day be able to love.

It's almost embarrassing, to admit how quickly that wish introduced itself after seeing Elizabeth again.

It probably took under half an hour after you saw her again.

[son-of-avraham]

I'm in many leftist spaces and I've seen many goyim in these spaces complaining about how often jews talk about leftist antisemitism.

The thing is that this is the consequence of claiming to be advocates or in support of another group of people - when you ostensibly prove you aren't for us, we're going to be harsher than we are to people who never pretended in the first place.

For an analogy, here's a similar situation: I am harsher toward "pro-trans" people who are transphobic than I am to people who are not. This is because the pro-trans person told me they were better than that. I am already aware that the anti-trans person is going to be anti-trans. Their anti-transness is self-evident. What isn't self-evident is a person who claims to be pro-trans and then proves otherwise.

This post is addressed toward leftist spaces because I occupy these spaces the most. It makes me wonder just how safe I am in these spaces when leftist begrudgingly acknowledge that this conversation keeps happening. I feel like a lot of leftists treat those of us who open these conversations like we're an "I left the left" rightist when... Most of us are still in leftist spaces. We have not left the left and through pretending we have, you absolve yourself the feeling of responsibility.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The Charcuterie Board, as designed by your votes! Thank you to everyone who participated; this was a fun challenge!

[arsenicflame]

Bonus round! Do you use a queue tag?

[clownowo]

Had the thought "Noelle should wear one of Those Christmas dresses to the Sadie Hawkman's dance" and started drawing and it spiraled from there

[naoa-ao3]

I've always felt that in terms of looks, John Constantine should stay looking like Sting but as Sting is famously into health and taking care of himself he shouldn't look as good as him. I don't mean make him ugly, there are plenty of issues where it's clear John can take care of himself and cleans up nicely but he's probably not going to get as expensive of a hair cut as Sting or have a personal chef/nutrition. He smokes constantly so his teeth are gonna be a bit worse for wear too.

I got frustrated with some of the later Hellblazer comics because in the beginning, John has clear ups and downs. Sometimes he looks great, his suit is neat, his hair is combed and he's going around confidently but then when shit hits the fan or his mental health suffers he can be seen looking unkempt and haggard. Later writers seemed to have him rolling off a perpetual bender which kind of took away from the realism of how John's mental health had been portrayed in the early stuff. Before, you knew he generally liked to be clean and to take care of his appearance. It makes it more painful, more human when you see him fall into depression and stop shaving or washing up. You know he's not supposed to be this way, you know it's not how he likes to be. You see the effects of his mental health suffering clearly. Later, when he's scruffy and scuffed up all of the time it's comes across as gimmicky and doesn't mean anything any more. The ups and downs of the character were one of the humanizing factors that really drew me to him in the first place and I know I'm not the first person to give my opinion on this but I was disappointed by this shift in interpretation and depiction. I didn't like him constantly being some slob who was just happy to roll around in filth and shit, when he get's like that it's because he's going through the bad times again. Otherwise it's just a meaningless gimmick.

So yeah, I maybe biased as a Sting- enjoyer but I like it when he looks like Sting. I just don't think he should be as generally fit and polished as Sting. I think of it as kind of like those pictures of identical twins where one twin smoked for 20 yrs and the other didn't. Also if one twin had vastly more money and didn't experience untold horrors every other week.

[camibispace]

I was considering how different the public opinion is from the fandom's view of which songs Paul and John wrote about each other What we might consider classics are still widely seen as just normal songs or songs about Linda/Yoko

For example I would say the ones I'm 100% convinced are about each other are:

the confirmed ones: Here today, Too many people, How Do You Sleep, Dear Friend

from the Beatles: If I fell, Two of Us, Oh!Darling, those few lines in Get Back about JoJo

from John: Jealous guy, I Know (I Know), (Just Like) Starting Over, Now and Then

from Paul: Best friend - live in Antwerp, This One, The Song We Were Singing, Early days

I have doubts/it's complicated/open interpetation/there's more to that/it bonds them but it's not about each other:

Here, There and Everywhere

Come and Get It

The Long and Winding Road

You've Got To Hide Your Love Away

Let Me Roll It

My Life

Nobody Knows

Tug of War

Something That Didn't Happen

The Lovers That Never Were

Anyway

Real love

Dear Boy

Hey Jude

Coming Up

Silly Love Songs

Arrow Through Me

Young Boy

New

Little Lamb Dragonfly

Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)

I'm Losing You

I Want To Hold Your Hand

All My Loving

The Pound Is Sinking

Feel free to suggest more or argue on some, I'm curious what other people have incorporated into their belief system about these two lol

[aestophobia]

I will forever stand by the fact that Blitzen and Hearthstone are some of the most interesting characters that Rick Riordan has ever written.

Hearthstone is the first mortal in centuries to practice rune magic, a skill that only Odin possessed before Hearth came along. He faced what I fully believe to be the worst trauma in the riordanverse (people often forget that in addition to being shunned for his deafness, being blamed for his younger brothers death, and having to live with the Wergild, he also had to skin the monster which killed Andiron all by himself at eight years old and he wasn't allowed back inside the house until had finished skinning the entire thing) and despite that, he still managed to return to Alfheim not once but twice to face his father. (and it's implied that it also happened another time prior to the story because Alderman knows who Blitzen is in THoT)

Blitzen is a misfit among dwarves, being the only one of his kind who isn't a builder by nature, but that doesn't mean he doesn't create by nature. He cares so much for fashion that he makes it his own craft despite not being given the recognition for it. He makes his own degree, he turns fashion into something that even the other dwarves can appreciate, and he succeeds in opening his own shop. He shows that he is willing to do anything for his friends on multiple occasions, and he has so much love to give even after losing his father, the only person who ever understood him. Because of this, he is able to recognize being a demigod for what it is, something that many other demigods don't like admitting all the time.

Neither Blitzen nor Hearthstone fit in among their own kind, but together, they form a bond unlike anything else Rick has ever written. Most of the MCGA fandom can't look past them being "not canon," but that's wrong. They aren't "not canon." They're nuanced and complicated with a relationship that might surpass platonic, but maybe it doesn't. (For my good omens fans, I would say they're thoroughly ineffable) That doesn't matter because they love each other, which they state in the text multiple times. Just because it never explicitly says "Blitz and Hearth are in a relationship" doesn't mean that they aren't in love. Just look at the things they do for each other.

Hearthstone, who doesn't show much emotion and is usually very restrained, but whenever he's been separated from Blitz, immediately rushes to hug him. Blitz, who once yelled at Hearth's abusive father with so much unbridled fury that Magnus thought it was Odin himself.

Blitzen can't survive in light, and Heartstone needs light to survive, so Blitz brought sunlight to a world of eternal darkness for Hearth. They call each other "my dwarf" and "my elf." Blitz learned an entire language for Hearth, and he expresses jealousy whenever Inge is around. Hearth faces abuse to save Blitzen even after Blitz begs him not to.

You can't have one without the other. They need each other more than anything else in the nine worlds. They weren't written just for you to go, "Oh boring, they aren't canon because they never kissed"

[a-dragons-journal]

I keep seeing "transotherkin" flag creation posts in the otherkin tag recently, and I just - takes your hands gently in mine. You are already otherkin. I don't know how to say this more gently, but - regardless of your feelings on other transx/transID identities and how well they are or aren't handled, transotherkin is a word that does not make any sense basically no matter which way you slice it. It's like saying you're transtransgender. It's already an internal identity determined entirely by your feelings and how you see yourself. If you want to be nonhuman/feel you should be nonhuman enough to be calling yourself transotherkin you are already otherkin - genuinely, what else do you think is required to qualify, exactly? And even if you well and truly are absolutely certain you're not already despite those feelings, you can just... become otherkin, or an otherlinker (a term that will yield more "okay but how do I do that" resources if you look into it), whatever term you prefer. It's okay. With all the gentleness in my heart, stop enshrining questioning doubt and gatekeeping-inflicted self-doubt as part of your identity and just claim the word that you have every right to anyway. It's okay. You're allowed. Come sit with us.

[kathonyy]

KATE SHARMA in BRIDGERTON 2x04 VICTORY

[anemonet]

pro tip: you can always put the bugs in little outfits :thumbsup:

[cyanityinsanity101]

i haven't really posted about hazshit hotel even critically before- but I wanted to edit a screenshot to try and redesign the whole color of the pride ring.

[ My edit ]

[ Original ]

[blueberry-ry]

If more people understood that Jaster is not a goody-two-shoes knight in a white cape fighting for the greater good and with a "standard good person" morale, but a mercenary that follows contracts to the letter who has a code and rules for him and other mercenaries, I think I would tolerate most of the fanon content of him

[venigni]

I don't like when people call the protagonist of Lies of P "Carlo" because I feel like it simultaneously erases the person Carlo was and the person P becomes.