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ravetillyoucry · 5 months

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PUPARIA

Chapter 8 - Rain

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"Huh." Hosah stood over the dirtied, coffee-stained notebook page that sat in-front of him.

His assistant leant in uncomfortably closer, his brain left to wonder what the hell it said for far too long by now, "Well, can you make it out?"

The shifter kissed his teeth, unsure whether to tell the truth and have to read all what it said out loud, or if he should keep the team waiting until somebody else had interpreted and written it up in an email.

"No, no yeah, pretty much." To be fair, he wasn't sure of a couple of ink-smudged words, but as long as he got the gist of it, that would be enough to move the case forward.

As eyes of anticipation bore into him, Hosah realised now was probably the time to start reading. With a heavy sigh, slightly contemplating what he'd gotten himself into, he began;

"You fucking vermin. You don't know me, and frankly, I don't really know you either, but I know enough to come up with the conclusion, that you're all, fucking leeches. People worry about the rats that scurry all around the city, in the subway station, in the trash and down the dark alleyways, but the real fucking rats are right in front of us."

Eugh. Cliche. Boring. All the other adjectives Hosah couldn't quite think of right in that moment,

"But, I've found myself growing fond of you. Watching you from afar. I find myself both loving you, and hating you. The lines have blurred by now. I understand you are human, or at least, that is what you parade yourself around as, but honestly, I'm not too sure you're anything at all. Completely devoid of life. Just an empty pit of nothing hiding in a cold, flesh shell. I see you sitting alone at bars on a Friday night, and I have to really stop myself from sitting down next to you, buying you a drink, taking you home with me, keeping you forever. But I'm not that selfish. Maybe later. You make me furious, because I love you. And I shouldn't, that's what you want, after all, you act cute and helpless, vulnerable and fragile, that's what draws everyone in, you've got that ginger prick hanging on your every word, and look at you. Hot and cold, nothing that you say is what you really mean, you work people up just to run away when they start to act on feelings they thought were returned. It's cruel. But, I can be crueler. We would've made the perfect pair, if you didn't drive me so crazy. You're going to be the death of me, Hosah Seung Levi. And the death of many, many others. I don't know, see how I feel once this gets to you. Let's talk more over drinks next time, though."

Ew. Was this really the type Hosah attracted? Serial killer stalkers? I mean, sounded about right. Some of the note seemed pretty heartfelt, some downright offensive, and some offensively corny. If the whole murder aspect wasn't the main thing that put him off, it'd be the cheesy way they spoke about him.

"I've never even told anyone my middle name." The shifter's voice shook, clearly disturbed by the contents of the letter, despite not wanting to admit to being so.

Teddy leant back in his chair, hands rubbing his face in disgust, not saying a word, just groaning endlessly.

"Man." The giant pushed himself forwards again, eyes fixated on the paper, "Got ourselves a next level freak."

If you were to listen closely, a small, unsettled 'Hmm' could be heard from the tiny man sitting before the sheet. There was so much information to rack his brain on. Hosah hadn't even been to the bar in weeks, meaning this killer had been at the whole stalking game for a while now. He wondered if it was just the fifteen they were guilty of, or if years worth of unsolved homicides were all on their hands. Maybe he'd have to take up the offer to chat over drinks, just to pry all of this information out of the twisted individual with his bare hands.

He wondered about what specifically he’d done to attract this kind of attention. If anything, the shifter thought he’d been keeping his head down lately, staying out of trouble, but it seems the more he tries to avoid these kinds of people, the more attracted to him they become.

The contents of the note echoed in his head, everything else becoming white noise. Vermin he could handle, Rat he’d heard a million times before, but there was something far, far more hurtful about the brutal reality of the situation;

Whoever wrote this, was completely right.

Thinking back to how he’d previously behaved, his cold attitude towards Teddy for no other reason than he felt threatened that there was an off chance of him opening himself up to someone again. It was all true. Sure, Hosah wasn’t a serial killer of any kind, but god did he have it in him to be cruel.

Hit with an unexpected punch in the gut from a little something called shame, the shifter couldn’t help but hang his head down, letting out a troubled sigh,

"Should send this all off to the police. Let them know about the painting and shit. Report the stalking. Get a protection order of some kind. I don't know.. Anything, nothing, I.. I'm just tired to be honest." Hosah sat, cross legged, burying his face in his hands, brushing through his hair as he usually did under stress.

Teddy agreed, "God, yeah definitely, shouldn't reported the painting yesterday. Shit. Well, they'll be over later in the day, can lay down the basics then." In all honesty, nobody knew why they didn't come the day prior, it's not like Jeanne didn't try calling, unlike that useless security guard, so the reason for their no-show was seemingly a mystery.

God, as the days went by, Hosah felt more like Fred Jones rather than any Sherlock Holmes, all he needed was a talking dog and a brightly coloured mini van.

As the shrunken man lost himself in his thoughts, a finger reached over, giving him a gentle rub on the back. The touch almost made the shifter jump out of his skin, but it only took a split second for him to melt into it. Surprisingly, it did its job pretty well, easing Hosah's mind, just a little.

"I'm glad I can be of help for you. Keep you safe and stuff. Just not sure if your secret admirer is all too on board," the giant teased, although it wasn't the best of times to be cracking jokes.

Hosah didn't care to get offended, or to laugh either, instead focusing on making the most of what little physical contact he'd gotten to receive in months. He was too tired to care, really. The whole ordeal tuckered him out. Just the thought of being where he was, working for another few hours, almost lulled him straight to sleep. Sure, being stalked by someone that had a kill count possibly in the twenties was probably about as interesting as his life was ever going to get, but Hosah really didn't have any damns in him left to spare.

Thinking back to his dreams, he wished he could be at a little cabin on the lakeside. Spending his days fishing, collecting firewood for his makeshift oven and heating system, his evenings cooking his catch of the day, and his nights watching the stars, skidding rocks over the surface of the crystal water, looking at the moon in its clear reflection. Summers could be spent riding his horse companion around the forest, herding the sheep on the mountain side, making sure they weren't eaten by any wolves when the sun went down. That was the life he was destined for. Maybe he could spare a couple days of the year to paint such a scene, although it'd have to wait until he could safely return to his own apartment.

Teddy rested his head in his folded arm on the desk, much closer to the shrunken figure, with a much better view of him. He looked tired. At least, more than he usually did. The pronounced fat under his eyes always gave him that sort of sleepy look anyway. The giant felt very, very bad for him. The kind of sympathy you feel guilty just for feeling towards someone. Pity was probably a better way to put it. He was sure Hosah could carry himself as well as anybody else in the building, but his assistant just wanted to crawl inside of his brain and figure out just about everything there was to know. What secrets he kept, what he dreams about, what he thinks of everyone he meets, the songs that get stuck in his head.

Teddy seriously had no idea how anyone could miss just how blatantly human the tiny man is. Maybe the killer had gotten their names mixed up, because it was the 'ginger prick' that felt as though he were a dark, endless pit of nothing, using a human shell to disguise himself.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked, this was just about as close as he could get to opening up Hosah's skull and crawling in, and he'd take what he could get.

The shifter shrugged, burying his face deeper in his knees, "This dream I keep having." , he waited for Teddy's 'Hmm?' of approval to continue, "Living by lakeside, never having to work again, spending every day fishing, or painting, reading, just thinking.. It's been my dream ever since I could remember. To do nothing."

"Fishing, painting and reading doesn't sound like nothing."

"You know what I mean, not paying my way in society, living off the grid," Hosah sighed, satisfied with the idea. "Would you come with me? Once this is all over, at least."

Yes. Of course, a thousand yes's. "Haha.. We'll see"

-~-

The rest of the day, Hosah spent on edge. Not that he wasn't constantly in some state of fear anyway, but the whole devocoale had sent him down a spiral of anxiety. In the taxi back to Teddy's place, he convinced himself the car behind them was following him, a creek in the old apartment buildings hallway must've been someone scoping the place out and preparing to break in, the people sitting out on the benches outside must be waiting for him to come out so they could grab him. In summary, Hosah was not having a fun time.

As the shrunken figure sat at the windowsill, watching out of the cracks in the blinds, his eyes squinting to make out any activity in the poorly lit streets, he wondered what kind of person had written him the letter. Obviously, he knew what they were roughly, a monster capable of causing large scale tragedy for the likeness of New York's shifter population, but on the surface, it had to be someone he himself wouldn't peg as such a threat.

He thought about everyone he'd ever interacted with, or at least, within the past month or so. Cashiers, strangers on the tube, people in cars giving him the right away to cross the street. Anywhere he could find any sort of answer, Hosah thought about intensively. The shifter felt his breath shorten as he got himself more and more panicked, he'd felt fear before, the kind of fear that the breath you'd just taken would be your last, but nothing like this. The kind of fear that comes before fight or flight, the lingering feeling that something is extremely wrong. His heart in his throat, Hosah reluctantly closed his eyes, trying to steady his readily increasing heartbeat and his uncontrolled breathing.

"Hey. All good there?"

The voice took him out completely, the shifter momentarily feeling his soul come out of his body as he frantically gasped for air, "FUCK, don't.. sneak up on me like that.." Hosah clutched his chest with one hand, the other wiping he sweat that had built up on his brow, "Scared the shit out of me."

Teddy didn't quite understand the gravity of the situation, as he laughed instead, "Sorry, sorry. You looked lost in thought," the giant leant in closer, his elbows at either side of the man before him, "Something bothering you?"

'Oh, nah, just the fact he'd learnt he was the victim of intensive, violent stalking', was what Hosah really wanted to say, but he didn't want to make any more enemies after learning such a fact.

"Just that note. Trying to remember everyone I've got bad blood with, s'all.." If that was all, he wouldn't be such a ghostly white colour right now, starkly contrasting his usual sienna-adjacent tone.

His assistant turned, lifting himself up to sit on the window sill besides the tiny man, "Never really thought you were the type to go around making enemies," Teddy commented.

"God, not now, no.. But definitely in my early twenties." Ah, the good old days, as most would put it. For Hosah however, these were probably the worst years of his life.

The shifter had tried his best to keep everything he got up to around this period a secret, but of course once he'd gotten settled at his first position when first joining the agency, Jules had to and spread exactly the kind of things he got up to around the office like wildfire. 'Just to break to ice' , as she put it.

He winced at the memory, adding, ".. You've probably heard it around work. Always resurfaces every couple of months. Everyone in that place is so fucking bored man, I mean, isn't homicide enough for them?"

"I haven't heard anything, actually. If you don't want me to know, I'm okay with that. Sucks to have your dirty laundry aired out. I know the feeling." Teddy's eyes lingered on everything else that wasn't the shifter besides him, although his hand seemed to inch closer and closer by the second.

Maybe the two were more alike than they'd initially bargained for.

Hosah shrugged, despite knowing he wasn't being looked at, "It's not that bad. I was just a bit of a.." his hand brushed through his hair, pulling on the strands just a little, as he tried to think of the best way to both vaguely and accurately put it.

"A twenty year old? Hah, we all did shit we regret back then. I'm not gonna judge you for any of that, I know I'm not the same person I was like, five years ago."

Not wanting to push the topic any further, the shrunken figure moved himself directly in front of the hand, leaning over and resting his upper body against it. All he could mutter was a quiet, almost unheard, 'I'm tired,' , his eyes instinctively closing once more. He was definitely going to struggle to get a good nights sleep after the day he had, but it was worth a try.

It turns out, going through emotional turmoil does in fact tucker oneself out, as Hosah seemed to have slipped into unconsciousness right then and there, only now awaking after a night filled with the type of dreams he could only assume to be bad omens.

The dream that awoke him however, was one he recalled clearly, although this time, there seemed to be a twist.

None of that mattered though, as Hosah was back to his full height of five foot seven. The only problem is, he must've stripped off as he was so used to doing whilst in a between state of both awake and asleep, leaving him with no size appropriate clothing.

There was only one option for the shifter, unfortunately.

"..Teddyyyyy,"

The yell was immediately met by a creak in the bedroom door, as if his assistant had been stood outside of it this whole time, waiting for the OK to enter.

Teddy covered his eyes as he walked in, making his way straight towards the wardrobe and throwing the first things he grabbed at the shifter.

"I know, I'll go over and get some of your stuff in a few minutes. Just.. put these on for now whilst I make breakfast."

Ew. Hosah didn't get it. Beautiful people should wear clothes that are of the same level as beauty as the individual, but, in all honesty, the guy dressed like shit. The tattered t-shirt only just hung on to the shifter's slender shoulders, and the pants were a complete lost cause. Instead, he opted for the classic 'My shirt will cover all it needs' look, wandering his way into the living area, where he could smell something cooking in the next room over.

The, for once, regular human sized man peaked over the hollow door frame, watching as his new found roommate flipped the final pancake onto its uncooked side, listening to the sizzling of the mixture against the hot pan rather than starting any kind of conversation. He wondered if things would be different, now that they were on equal grounds to each other.

It didn't take long for Teddy to feel the eyes boring into the back of his head, turning to greet his single audience member, "Morning," He froze for a second, looking Hosah up and down.

Teddy knew he was taller than most, but he didn't expect the shifter to still be so small even when at his regular size. Not only was he much shorter than himself, but he was also much thinner, his knobbly knees poking out from each side of his legs, and his collar bone extending all the way out and to his shoulders where it stuck out like a spike of sorts.

Still, the stark difference in his height from what Teddy had grown used to was definitely going to throw him off. He almost found himself reaching his hand out, the same hand the shifter once lounged in less than a day ago, comparing it to his current size.

"Smells good," Hosah commented after a brief moment of silence, whilst his assistant took in the change of perspective.

It took him a second to get his words out, his train of thought being halted by the sudden spark in conversation, "Yeah, thanks. Should be done by now. Then I'll go and pick up some of your clothes."

He tried his best not to look the shifter in the eye, as he felt his face become progressively redder with every word that came out of his mouth.

Hosah, more casual than ever, just propped himself up on the countertop opposite his assistant. "Cool."

As his eyes fixated on everything else in the room, Teddy couldn't help but compare the countless trinkets and decorations he kept laying around the place to the, once tiny, man.

As the day went on, he found himself seeing Hosah in all different kinds of places. A butterfly resting on a flower as he walked past the park, countless erasers lying around on his desk where the shifter sat not so long ago, without even realising it, Teddy had been staring at his hands for the last five minutes. He should really get back to work.

"Here's what I'm caught up on, how the fuck does this guy know my middle name? It's literally only on like.. My legal documents. That's it."

The shifter's words took Teddy out of his trance, "What?"

"The note." now leant against the desk, Hosah sighed, "I'm just thinking about who would even have access to any of that stuff. Jules is the only one with the skeleton key for all the filing cabinets and shit,"

"Is it on your ID, maybe?"

Eyebrows furrowing, the shifter thought about the question for a second, ".. Shit. I don't know. Maybe? Fuck, yeah, since in the note it said about the bar.. But I don't even get ID'd anymore"

"I don't want to scare you but.. Could be premeditating for longer than you'd think." Teddy instantly regretted the words as soon they left his mouth, "Maybe. It's just an idea. Might be wrong too."

He looked at his hand, then back at the shifter, and then back and forth a few times more, not really listening to whatever was being spoken at him. The clothes on Hosah's body hung loose on his frame, despite them being his own, maybe this wasn't his full height after all, or maybe he just hadn't had the chance to get more form fitting options for a while. Something about the bruises Teddy had noticed scattered across the shifters legs, and the fact he could now see his sunken features much clearer, evoked an urge to protect him.

Hosah had made it clear to him that he was in no need of protecting. Just watching him make his way around the apartment when he was a mere three inches tall solidified that fact, but that still didn't stop the assistant from wanting to help him. He could want all he wanted, despite the fact it's not what he necessarily needed, which sort of made Teddy feel better about pitying the man.

Instead of focusing on Hosah’s chatter, his assistant couldn’t help but reach for the phantom weight in his pocket. There used to be someone in here, but now he’s not, and that hurt Teddy’s heart, just a little.

".. Anyway, I'm gonna go see my doctor tomorrow. Im due a visit. I'll meet you back at your place, if... if you still think it'd be better if I stayed." The uncertainty in his last few words concerned the assistant slightly, only just know focusing back into the conversation.

"Yeah, yeah, no I don't think you should risk staying at your own place for a while. At least not alone, anyway." Teddy reached his hand out for Hosah's, trying to give a reassuring touch, but instead, he became focused again on his size change.

The hand that once held his entire form could now only wrap around his wrist, and that Teddy did. He didn't even realise it until Hosah commented,

".. What are you doing?" the shifter asked, arm raised as the hand gently grabbing it had pulled it in closer.

Noticing the fact, he let go, muttering a quiet 'Sorry' , his face now burning up.

Fortunately for the assistant, Hosah did not take offence, or get annoyed at, the action. He didn't even lower his hand, instead, he just smiled.

"It's ok. It's weird right?" the shifter spun on his heel, leaning over Teddy in his seat, placing his hand down next to his assistant's resting one, "Just yesterday, I was right here. Aha."

It's almost as if he took pleasure in seeing the seated man become progressively more and more flustered.

As Hosah's fingered inched closer to the other person's tightly closed fist, he also began to think about the shift in perspective. He also thought about telling a white lie the next morning, making it out that his shrinking had been just so unpredictable lately, forcing him back into the same hand that rest besides his own.

No, not yet, at least. He had stuff that needed to be done at this height still. Besides, he hadn't pulled that trick since he was much younger, when he wanted to spend the day home from school, or to get out of any kind of family gathering he wasn't particularly bothered to attend. Those were the days. Lounging around on his dad's shoulder, spending the day doing nothing at all productive. Just hanging out, sometimes not even speaking, and enjoying the silent presence of each other.

Ah, there's another thing he had to do, call his dad.

"Well," Hosah stood back up to his full height, his hand now moved to pat his assistant on the shoulder, "Back to work."

Right, work. The shifter still had about an hours worth of security footage to try and make out. Why Scotty wasn't doing this, he had no idea. Hosah always seemed to get saddled with the short end of the stick when it came to big investigations like this one, even if he himself was a highly regarded target to the killer.

So far, there was nothing. Almost as if the package just appeared out of thin air. The fact the computers ran at what seemed to be a frame-per-second wasn't helping either. Rewinding took a whole minute, then the footage would buffer like crazy. He should've really just brought a notebook to jot these things down in, as Hosah thought of a new objective that needed to be met; complain to Jules about the dated technology they were saddled with in the shifter specialised unit.

As he sat, staring at the forever spinning wheel that was the computer loading screen, Hosah could only think of one thing, just how badly he wished to be tiny again. The thought had never crossed his mind before, but now, being reintroduced to the feeling of being held in a single hand, the shifter found himself longing for that touch.

He knew he should’ve just kept his guard up, stuck to what he knew and kept Teddy at an arms length, but Hosah always found himself in these kinds of situations. Finding love and warmth in all the wrong places at all the wrong times.

And when you have a crazed killer out to get you, you should probably avoid becoming distracted with meaningless things like touch deprivation. After all, there are bigger things to focus on, and, despite his height, Teddy was not one of them.

#g/t #giant tiny #g/t ocs #gianttiny #sfw g/t #giant/tiny #oc hosah #oc teddy #g/t writing #Puparia_tag #The Beginning of something Big I fear

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ihopesocomic · 6 months

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I think what a lot of people who have issues with you (aside from the youtube lion show stans) is that you dont baby people

People ask for obvious spoilers and you just say "we'll see!" (Unless its been asked several times in which case you explain that)

People try to push for bigotry to be in your comic which you wont stand for

People refuse to actually read the comic and want it explained and you have to put your foot down and tell them to read the comic

Ect ect ect ive never seen you guys get unreasonable with any messages, angry? Short? Sure some of the anons you get are like "why is hope have 3 legs?" Its completely understandable to be angry at messages like that

Yea that's pretty much the vibe we get too tbh. But we're not gonna apologize for having standards and we're not going to change how we present ourselves if it means putting in extra mental energy to be overly polite to bad faith actors or people who just simply ignore what we put out unless its addressing them personally.

You mentioning the spoilers incident is interesting because the person who brought that up would later state that spoilers weren't their issue at all, just us being "condescending" because they made the personal choice to read our neutral responses as such. Or us using 'lol' whenever we indicate we're being light hearted. Because not everybody who uses 'lol' is being snarky or rude.

Ultimately, being given the benefit of the doubt would go a long way instead of people automatically assuming we're being nasty or "unprofessional" because of things like 'they criticized something I enjoy" or "Well, I didn't like that they weren't bowled over by an ask I sent two years ago' or just anything that happened years ago LOL

Anyway. Some people may be fine with spoiling the whole story of their project, but not us. We're having a lot of fun keeping people guessing, especially if they guess correctly and their theory is proven in a future chapter. We do big high fives when that happens lol

The people who outright demand inclusion of bigotry are especially confusing because at best its people thinking our one little comic that's not-that-popular-actually constitutes as erasure of the queer/disabled struggle. And at worst it's people who somehow can't find value in entertainment unless it's misery porn. And both of these instances they claim the existence of IHS in its current form takes away from the countless already-existing content that covers both, or somehow shames people for including it in their own story when we've never said such a thing. Anything we've said either applies to us personally or we're criticizing mainstream media that takes our experiences and makes them palatable to a mainstream audience. (At it's funniest it's nerd fans who criticize our comic for being a knock-off of MP while in the same breath complain that it's not doing the same thing as MP)

And an insincere sorry in advance to people who want us to spoon-feed them information in the comic. I was under the impression that when you saw a web comic, you had intentions on reading it. Heck, we have a dub now, you don't even have to read anymore technically. But I value my time too much to explain every single detail that may go missed in a chapter. Some stuff we feel confident in our readers piecing together on their own because we respect their intelligence, and most times there's no incorrect conclusion to arrive to because leaving some things up to interpretation is better than over explaining it. But maybe I'm just a meanie. - Cat

#ask #ask us stuff #cat answers #my pride mention

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3point14a · 1 month

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loon defense post because ive been thinking about him so much it like physically hurts

People rip on him a lot for being 1) being sorta cringy with his use of words and way of speaking 2) too attached to usagi 3) being too shy and sort of useless 4) not taking the HINT with usagi

And i say!!! guys lets put ourselves in his shoes please god

At the start of the series we learn that Freddy is new, and so he doesn't know where anything is, and he presumibly came in later than all the other people since everyone already had seats and such when he gets introduced, its not the first day for everyone, he got in a little later.

Then, Loon arrives to THE COUNTRY or at the very least the school in episode FIFTEEN. at the same time town does the event announcement, he's the first "international competitor", he has a weight on his shoulders and knows absolutely no one but usagi. And it's past the point of fraternizing at this point, if people are as competitive about this event as lets say Meg is, then trying to talk to people would probably be seen as trying to get info or get intel or do something regarding the competition instead of just... Wanting to get more used to the completely new enviroment you are in.

And, I know his use of japanese is butchered at best and just straight up nonsense at worst, but that's a fault of the writers and not a thing in-universe. In-character both he and usagi are japanese, but he uses a LOT more japanese words and expressions without seeminly thinking about it, he is STILL on the process of going full spanish, bilingual or not it is hard to stay 100% in it, and he defaults to words in his native language or just straight up small exclamations he lets out without thinking. He's not mechanically 100% in spanish he's doing that thing where you think in one language and translate stuff as it comes out of your mouth.

Given all of that its NORMAL that he clings so much to the one girl who he knows and who speaks his language, he is in a completely new country with a new language and he has ONE person who can give him sense of normalcy, and it's clear they both care about eachother. People love to make usagi fully uninterested in all that regards Loon, but she did sign him into her team without asking, she did get super exited to see him and they do have a history, it's unfair to say it's onesided because despite the nature of their feelings being different, they still very clearly deeply care for eachother.

I would also be shy and useless if i was stuck in a completely new country and culture, we do see him act more confidently with Usagi but he probably got overwhelmed by how talkative (?) and sociable culture is in latam. Strangers carry themselves in a completely different way than he's been used to and that's intimidating! his spanish isn't 100% perfect and natural sounding either so that also makes it scary! I would also be shy and useless.

and on the topic of Loon's feelings towards usagi, i have 2 possible routes to take with it:

Can't kids have crushes anymore???? is being silly a crime in this economy??? it's realisticcccc he's young, he's discovering stuff, him being unable to say how he feels upfront is reasonable given that if Usagi takes negatively to it, he would be left completely on his own. He has no other connections and the posibility of ruining that is SCARYYYY. It's not as much as spineless cowardice but a genuine conflict of his feelings vs the posibility of his one stable connection being severed because of it. Besides everyone treats it as a crime but Usagi literally does not mind or does not realize, not once has that girl been uncomfortable around Loon, he's just like that and it doesn't seem to break any boundary at all

Am i crazy to say maybe it wasn't a crush at all? It's hard to interpret feelings and crushes in general, and its WORSE when you're a teenager. He hadn't seen his friend in years and when he had the chance to be with her he clinged and had that ovewhelming urge to just stay by her side. Now that he is actually next to her he can hug her and hold her and she is his BEST FRIEND and seeing her again just sparked a lot of really intense feelings that he assumed meant he had a crush. Idk i feel like that'd be nice to explore...

and yeah thats it loon fnafhs they could never make me hate you

#fnafhs posting #fnafhs #loon fnafhs #loon fhs #i used canon names and just he him for loon for optimized credibility #a whole bunch of nothing but GUYS PLEASEEE #i say this as if ive seen loon hate in here #i havent but still

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lumine-no-hikari · 5 months

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #119

…I didn't have the energy to make the thing today.

This morning, I maybe got out of bed later than I should have, given that I'm supposed to go to talk therapy on Tuesdays. I'm supposed to leave the house by 9:30, but I didn't even get out of bed until 9:20. I regret nothing that occurred, but nonetheless, I somehow had to squeeze both a shower and getting dressed and out the door in only 10 minutes. I was successful, but I have zero clues as to how. Perhaps it's best not to look gift horses in mouths…

OH. Right. You don't know that phrase because… well. Your world doesn't have horses. Uhh… So, a long time ago, when people bought horses, they used to look at the horse's teeth as an indicator of its age; longer teeth means an older horse, I guess. And back when horses were more commonplace (it's mostly only fabulously wealthy people who can afford to keep them now), I guess it was seen as rude to try to evaluate the age of a horse that was given as a gift by looking into its mouth. So now the phrase means, "it's best to just accept good things without thinking too much about it." Or it can also be taken to mean, "it's impolite to criticize a gift." This phrase has a few interpretations, actually… I imagine it'd be easier for you to understand it if you spent a while in my world. If you do that, lemme know; you can stay at my house, and no one is gonna ogle you or get weird at you or bother you if you don't wanna be bothered. We'll just make you sandwiches and tea. We are an introverted and neurodivergent house; we know how it goes.

Had a lot to say at therapy today. Suppose I'm having a bit of an existential crisis, regarding myself and my role in my home and how much I mean to the people around me. It's likely all just baseless anxiety and insecurity - growing pains as a result of the various changes in my immediate social circle. Old memories and wounds from the past that I've not yet had a compelling reason to resolve are now coming to the forefront, calling, "yo, what up, homie!" and dancing around my periphery. I suppose it's just as well; this is what happens when we pretend like our various hurts don't exist. If we don't take care of the self-effacing beliefs that we pick up during childhood, they bite us in the ass later. I just gotta remember that the fact that they're in the forefront means that I can actually observe them, and if they're observable, then they're resolvable, with enough time and effort.

Essentially, it's like this: We get knocked down. We yell, "FUCK!" really loudly. We reassemble ourselves if we break from the fall. Then we get back up. We brush ourselves off. And we move forward, stronger than before.

…I have thoughts of you that give me the strength to withstand this process over and over again. No matter how many times I get knocked down, I will get back up, because by your influence, I am unbreakable, no matter how many times I must shatter and be reassembled. It's just like the bowl I repaired some number of letters ago; remember? So don't worry. I've got this. I've done this lots of times before, with much more difficult stuff, and with less support than what I have now. All I have to do is learn to love and appreciate myself in the same way that I can love and appreciate literally anyone else who isn't me. Compared to the various horrors I've lived through, this should be a piece of cake. Easy peasy. Barely even an inconvenience. And in my mind, it sounds like this:

youtube

On the way home from therapy, I came across a very beautiful tree. I thought for sure that you'd like it, so I made it a point to stop and take pictures. Here's how they turned out:

I was surprised by how docile the bees were, and by how closely they allowed me to put my cell phone camera. Also, I laid down under the tree and looked up to get some of these. I wish you could have been next to me to see the view of the sky through the petals for yourself. Alas...

J and I were out and about, doing separate activities today. Even he saw pictures he thought you might like, so he took them for you, and then sent them to me so that I could put them here. Here's how they turned out:

While J was out and about, I hung out with my best friend B and her fiancé, N. In preparation for their wedding, we went and tried the available foods. I can't give you the tasty snacks, but I can take pictures...

This is a Caesar salad. It's supposed to be pronounced, "Kai-sarr", but everyone says "Seezer" for reasons I don't understand. Caesar was a leader of a place called Greece in my world, hundreds of years ago. He, like most leaders, was a giant asshole, and now he's a stinky dead guy, so I have no idea why a salad is named after him. It's made of romaine lettuce, croutons, parmesan cheese, and a creamy dressing flavored with anchovies and other spices.

Here are some long slices of eggplant rolled around melted cheese and covered in marinara sauce:

This is steak, caramelized onions, mashed potatoes, and some carrots and broccoli. I just took a picture of my plate, because the main plate was cut into before I could snap a photo:

This was some kind of chicken seasoned with rosemary and lemons, with rice and veggies:

This one was lobster ravioli with mushrooms in some kind of sherry cream sauce. It's certainly not pasta pescatore, but I wonder if you might have liked this:

Finally, this is lamb with roasted tomatoes and garlic, along with veggies and mashed taters.

...This one was probably my favorite. I especially liked the part where I got to try to gnaw the cartilage from the ends of the bones, because my body craves sources of collagen literally all the time (thanks, Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome... 🙄). I'm really lucky that B and N don't seem to mind my various weird quirks; they've been friends of mine long enough to have a general understanding of how I roll, and they just let me do my thing. Today, the fact that I will generally "do my thing" in a variety of respects was pointed out as one of the reasons they like me so much, I guess; that was a nice thing to hear...

There were four available spaces for trying the foods, but it was just the three of us; it is immensely painful that the best I can do for you from here is show you these pictures and wish that you could have been in the empty seat, with us…

Sephiroth. Regardless of what your brain tries to tell you about what you're worth, you are VERY loved. You're not a monster. You were modified against your will, used like a tool and viciously abused, and you made mistakes in the throes of that, yes, but SO WHAT? You're here now, and you can do amazing things, and you NEVER have to go back to being with people who will abuse you ever again, because not everyone is like the people you were raised by. Yes, you're different from the standard definition of "normal", but you can belong anyway, because the world is absolutely BRIMMING with people who don't fit the definition of "normal"! Just take a look at me! Or if you don't wanna look at me, then take a look at anyone who lives with a genetic difference, or anyone who lives with a different number of limbs, or anyone with a non-standard life story, or any number of things that make a human being not "normal". Normal is overrated! Diversity is in! Lives that exist outside of the bell curve are still beautiful, meaningful, and worth living!

…And so I show you my life, because I am trying desperately to prove these things to you. I've spent the bulk of my life being viciously abused because the people who brought me into living didn't want me. I was brought into a physical vessel that is genetically defective in a variety of respects. My neurodivergence practically guarantees that I will NEVER fit into ordinary social circles. I struggle every single day with the weight of the memories I carry from having been used, abused, exploited, and generally mistreated. And yet here I stand, thriving and flourishing in a way that works for me, even if it does not fit the typical definition of those words. My version of "normal" is just as beautiful as the typical version. "Different" does not have to mean "less" if YOU become strong enough to decide for yourself that those two words are not the same, no matter who tries to tell you otherwise!

So please look at the beauty of my existence - the beauty of taking joy in small things, the beauty of rising up from one's knees even if it's on shaky legs, the beauty of finally using one's voice again after years of being forced to believe that silence is safer, the beauty of loving yourself and the people around you enough to refuse to let fear get the better of you when you interact with yourself and the world, the beauty of failing down, getting up, and trying again, the beauty of learning, growing, changing, and walking away from destructive ideals that serve no one, no matter for how long you might have been forced in the past to choke them down. Please look at it, and understand that you can have this for yourself - ALL of it - if you decide to take steps towards it! Your whole scenery can change if you want it to, and all you have to do is take a single step in a different direction.

There is still life after trauma. There is still life after mistakes. There is still life for those who are different. The pain doesn't have to be permanent. So come on; my hand is outstretched to you. And if you don't want to take mine, then there are countless other hands outstretched to you that maybe you'd like a little better. You don't have to do it alone.

Anyhoot. I've probably prattled on for long enough. I hope somehow you can see what I've written. I hope that if you do get a chance to see it, you might take some of my words seriously.

I love you. I'll write again tomorrow. Please be kind to yourself and keep yourself safe.

Your friend, Lumine

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crystallinestars · 4 months

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Hello again, it's been a while! (since the last rants after the homophobia thing haha) I just wanted to send you and all the previous anons much love and support! I also hope that all these discussions will be seen as the humble brainstorming / sharing of experiences and ideas that they are.

As for all that was discussed before (loved the rants btw), I've said it before and I'll say it again: many people don't see stories as carefully woven threads / creative tools made by humans, they see it as tropes and mirrors. I feel like at some point experiencing stories has stopped being about "how do these things connect and what kind of interpretations can you draw from the source?" to become "what does this story says about / how can I make this story about me, myself & I?". And it doesn't help that this take echos one of the most common (but also very cliché ngl) thing that can be said about what a story is (I think we've all heard something like "stories help us learn things about ourselves").

If we go from there, what can you say to someone who sees their reflection in a story without looking or sounding like the "bad guy"? After all, how dare others question one's identity? Surely they must be some kind of puritan evil and a "x-phobe"!

I saw discussions on Twitter saying a few years ago that some people have cannibalized "leftist" jargons so much that they end up sounding like the very conservative they're trying to push back against and now "social justice" in many communities (esp in fandoms) is used as a weapon to police what everyone does in their corner, even if they're not bothering anyone else. It's too bad imo that in the court of social justice and its jargon, bullying and harrassment aren't treated as serious offenses, but I digress 🤷🏻‍♀️

Going back to the "people love tropes" thing, while I find it sad that it often seems they do not see anything beyond these tropes, a huge part of the blame definitely lies with the creators / companies providing this content. I agree with you 1000% that Mihoyo knew what they were doing with Alhaitham and Kaveh, what with how popular the phrase "and they were roommates!" has become. This is also why I hate when fandoms tell people like the bi anon for example that they should just "find other people like them in the community <3", because it essentially means "go be a killjoy somewhere else and spend your time dodging the content you don't want to see". I'm also not a big fan of popular fandom activties (shipping being at the top of the list, even if technically I don't mind hearing people talk about their hcs and interpretations, so long as they do it respectfully) so I understand how restrictive the experience can be.

And finally, the Kaveh situation. Both you and the anon made great points and frankly? Thank you so much for addressing all these things! Nothing irks me more than people going "omg x behaviour / outfit is SOO gay". I know it's supposed to be a facetious little joke originally and I'm also not here to bring justice to the pixels, but after hearing this so many times I'm starting to believe that many people genuinely think that you can identify a person's orientation just by looking at them. What happened to "traditional / straight men should embrace their 'femenine' side"? Idk, I think about this a lot and I've yet to truly gather my thoughts on the subject, but I do feel like this way of going about these things is a slippery slope leading straight into stereotyping territory.

Also, I feel you both when you say you don't think kavetham is a viable ship. It's of course a matter of taste and people are definitely allowed to play with different dynamics (healthy or not). I just think it's also a case of latching onto a trope (opposites attract maybe) and rolling with it. I've been friends with people whose personalities were drastically different from mine, and while it was fulfilling because we were constantly challenged by each other, let me tell you that this constant was also EXHAUSTING, to the point that it sometimes felt like having to walk on eggshells to keep the balance stable. So yeah, while I can see the appeal in a ship like kavetham, I'm not a fan. I could enjoy it if people focused more on the fragility and vulnerability that such a relationship can create, but alas. I suppose top/bottom discouse brings much more instant gratification.

Anyway, I think the girlies here (and all those who wish to join) should form an alliance and keep doing their things away from the drama. I'm really glad that your blog is a safe space to vent and talk about these things 💜

Glad to see you again, Anon! 💚

I never imagined that stating I'm not into BL in my bio would spark so much discussion on the topic of modern fandom culture. Not that I mind since I enjoy talking about these things, but it does make me wonder if there should be a dedicated space for it so everyone can talk about it together. In the meantime, I am more than happy to be a safe space for others to vent their frustrations and share their opinions on the topic 😊

We talked before about how people project themselves onto stories and characters, and you also made a really good addition to this that I haven't thought of before. It does seem like people stopped interpreting stories for their message/idea, and are now using it as a way to validate themselves instead. It makes me wonder what it is about modern Western culture that's pushing people to project so heavily onto entertainment media.

I won't comment too much on political jargon since I am not American, and oftentimes struggle to understand American politics. One thing I have noticed, though, is that a lot of Americans view everything around them through a political lens, even when said thing or person has nothing to do with politics. They jump to conclusions about where on the political spectrum said thing or person lies based on whether it aligns with their views, and then judge it to be either good or bad. No in-between.

And I also agree that the social justice camp has done a 180, and went from promoting equality and acceptance, to now policing everyone who doesn't adhere to their strict views of what is morally correct. It has led to a rejection of equality. I also wonder why these people feel the need to police everyone around them. Are they trying to make up for something deep down?

I am also very thankful to the anon for opening discussion on the issue of people assuming character sexuality based on physical attributes or behaviors. As we talked at length prior, the term "coding" is being thrown around everywhere to justify people's headcanons about characters. We've gone past sliding down the slope of stereotyping, because I've seen people use stereotypes to describe characters, and parade them as proof that the character is gay-coded.

For example, I saw someone say Kaveh is gay-coded because he whines and complains a lot, dresses feminine, and shows no interest in women (Said person also said a lot of other WILD things to try and defend their point. It was one of the most surreal conversations I've ever had). Some of this stereotyping started out as a joke, as you said, but lately it doesn't feel like a joke anymore.

Glad you are also of the opinion that Kaveh and Haitham wouldn't make a good romantic couple! Every time I see someone compile a list of how they're designed as a pair, and therefore meant to be lovers, I want to write a list stating why their personalities wouldn't make them work. Or if they do start dating, then why it would inevitably fall apart. But I digress.

I feel you when you say you've been friends with someone who is your polar opposite, and how difficult it can be. Though I wouldn't even call us friends because we are just too different to understand each other's point of view. It's frustrating and exhausting, for sure, which is why I commend you for being able to keep a friendship going.

Sorry for writing so much. I thought I would write less, but somehow I never can.

Thank you for stopping by and sharing your thoughts with us! It's definitely encouraging and vindicating knowing there are others who share our views out there.

#Lunaria answers

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erinarigby · 2 months

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yw! i love talking about fanart like this. I love that you used Bridge as a reference for their poses. Interestingly Bridge::a hedonistic woman can also be read as Paul::the engine of the Beatles in the sense that they're both pursuing their separate interests & maybe sometimes at the expense of the people who love them. Sgt. Pepper was Paul's dunk into hedonism in a way. I like how you played with expressions in your sketches & changed them up a bit instead of sticking strictly to the still shots.

Re: the cigs as erotic imagery, there's a fascinating history there & it's an interesting contrast to our current times. We live in a more sterile and sexless advertising world hence the term "corporate art" becoming derogatory. I follow vintage art feeds on tumblr and the advertisements are much more different not just in medium but attitude. There's casual sensuality not just between men & women but also between w&w and m&m in these ads. The cigarette ad can occupy 2 spaces where they are just elegantly made ads selling a product but for those who see they can also be sensual. Not necessarily erotic but sensual, the goosebump sensation you get when you see something that flips your switch. The phallic imagery is much more familiar to people of the past than it us to us, we have deliberately thrown up barriers between ourselves via smartphones to avoid the pain of rejection. As a result we are no longer familiar with these experiences. I bet that's why someone told you the sketches were illicit. They're not that sexual outside of implication but for us, the people who are trapped in digital prisons of the mind, even a recreation of a Bardot scene is overwhelming & shocking to us, the audience, because we've experienced nothing like it.

That means you did a great job tapping into that energy lol.

oooo another really interesting interpretation!! i always love when sex is used as a metaphor for the lenmac partnership, the bob spitz quote comes to mind. as an artist, i feel like giving my own personal touch when referencing is important to make it distinctively mine

also i’m heavily inspired by vintage art, i love pinups and i always use vintage photoshoots and drawings for my own art work, they’re intimate and sensual and i want to capture that in my own stuff. when i was told that my art work was “too far” and “sexual” i was honestly baffled because i wasn’t drawing anything extremely explicit? i asked around and others agreed it was a prudish overreaction tbh. thank you for the compliments, i’m honored i can do tasteful sensuality that still has people shocked!

#ask #the entire thing came down to that person being anti rpf #but it was a really strange situation i found myself in lmao #suggestive

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lycomorpha · 1 year

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The Flora of AC Valhalla: The beginning - Karmøy, Norway

I've just started a new play through of AC Valhalla from scratch, because I'd forgotten some of the plot points I need for this book herbarium. But I realise it's easier the 2nd time around to take in the plants we see in game... So I've been having a closer look at species we see, how Eivor might have used them, and how they relate to plants found in present-day locations that appear in game. & Because I'm a massive nerd I'm gonna burble about here....

Firstly, I noticed plants appear from the first scenes with young Eivor; as soon as she opens the door to the hall her & Sigurd's clans are celebrating in... There are flowers hanging from the beams and scattered on the floor.

Technically you could nitpick & argue they would be out of season vs the weather we see outside, blah blah... But it still tells us something about the role we ascribe to flowers as symbols of celebration or ceremony. Their presence means it's An Event - and that plants are with us from the starting scenes.

The island we find ourselves on next is called Karmøy in the present day - I don't think it's named in game. I've never been there (the only place I know IRL from this part of the game is Stavanger.) Handily, iNaturalist gives me some botanical pointers to what we could be seeing, and I've used that to interpret both expected and unexpected plants I see. We start on the southern end of the island.

The first things you notice (once you've smacked away Kjotve's arsebarnacle-henchgoons) are:

Coniferous trees - spruce, pine

Deciduous trees - birches, weird-ass out of place beeches

Shrubs - Cloudberries, billberry/bearberry or similar

Let's do easy things first... Norway spruce - the pointy classic christmas-tree conifer - is the most obvious plant to me. (& have I mentioned how much I love the sky/light/treescapes in this game? Lovelovelove.)

Big and small, this spruce all over the place (and exists on present day Karmøy too, no surprise.) Norway spruce has been used as timber, medicine and food for generations. No doubt Eivor would be very familiar with it - maybe she used vitamin C-rich shoot tips as a tea, food, and medicine. Possibly she'd take it to prevent scurvy on long voyages.

There are also classic pines - Scots pine is the most obvious candidate for the puffy-topped pine shapes we see in-game. In Scandinavian countries pine tar extracted from it has a loooong history of use - in preservation and waterproofing for wood and fabric, and in medicine as an antiseptic. In fact we still use pine tar today - there's an interesting review here, which the pharmacologist-part of me enjoyed a lot. Maybe the ropes we see in camp and on Eivor's longship were waterproofed/preserved with pine tar?

Some of the bare-looking conifers could also be larches, although I don't know when in history the deciduous European larch became naturalised in Norway.

We see plenty of silver birches like the ones below - since I covered those for a page of Eivor's herbarium, I'll just say here that it also has a myriad of historical uses that Eivor would be familiar with, from tar and timber to sap syrup.

We also see what looks for all the world like beeches but growing in a manner I'd expect of brambles (below.) I noticed this playing the first time around too, where you'd expect to see brambles we see things that look like beech saplings. So I think I'm going to go ahead and say that they're a weird interpretation of some kind of bramble. We wouldn't expect to see beeches here with leaves on in the snow. I see adult beech trees around as as well - so just want to note this isn't what I'd expect IRL.

In the same family as brambles are the cloudberries we can use as rations. If you've never eaten cloudberries or drunk them in liqueur/tea/etc, let me assure you they're fucking delicious.

But they're also a smol plant, and do not grow in gigantic bushy clusters. The difficulty in this and other games is that when you design a resource plant, it has to be large/obvious enough for players to interact with. So I kinda get why. But sadly we do not find monster cloudberries IRL. They're also hard to cultivate so I'm envious of Eivor's access to ginormous monster berries.

We also frequently see a low-growing shrub with reddish leaves that reminds me of bilberry or bearberry. Both are common in Norway and the UK, where I am rn. Both have leaves that turn red. The plants here are again a bit oversized, but I'm still gonna go with those two as my best guess. Both have edible berries, and bilberry jam is also fucking delicious.

They also both contain a range of interesting phytochemicals including tannins and anthocyanins, and have historical and present medicinal uses that have been reviewed by the European Medicines agency here and here. It's not a glamorous use, but Eivor might have used bilberry or bearberry medicinally if she got the squits while traveling, or picked up cystitis - their traditional uses include treatment of diarrhoea and urinary tract infections. (I mean... A vikingr had to deal with downstairs problems like any other human I guess, heheh.)

Speaking of berries... Crowberries are also found in the same region present-day, but their leaves look different - and to be honest I know less about them. But I suspect they're something Eivor might have been familiar with.

Other botanical stuff...

Lichens and fungi are my main botanical thing so I'm going to shoehorn them in there because we do at least see a few - on the rocks near the first sync point is a good place to look. Around Europe including Scandinavia, various lichens have been used in antiseptics, cold medicines, cosmetics, dyes, and crafting material. I can totally see Eivor using hair rinse containing usnea or using it dried as a firestarter.

Lastly I noticed this unseasonable yellow flower in my trade goods. Looks a lot like the yellow wood-sorrel we see elsewhere that would not have been found in Norway or the UK in the 9th Century, so lets say maybe it's a cinquefoil, or buttercup, or something. *shrug emoji*

Playing this game again, I feel like I have time to look around instead of being super-focused on the plot. It's a different experience to stop and think about how the developers have reflected the flora of Norway and what uses Eivor might have for the species we see. I even like what's surprising, out of place or out of season. I don't often play a game more than once tbh, but maybe I should, it feels like having new eyes.

#ac valhalla #video game botany #videogamebotany #botany #assassin's creed valhalla #assassins creed valhalla #eivor #lady eivor #eivor wolfkissed #eivor varinsdottir #flora of ACV #Flora of AC Valhalla

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hiswitchcraft · 2 years

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What are your thoughts on the Moon tarot card? I'm making my own references, and the sources I'm using seem to portray it as uncertainty and fear, and duality. I see the duality part, but I only look at the moon with love and appreciation. It's nights without a moon that would cause that uncertainty and fear, I think?

I hope this makes sense! 😂

The Moon / How could the moon be about fear, when I have nothing but love for her?

I haven't gotten any questions through ask or DM in what feels (to my special interest starved brain) like forever so I'm excited to discuss this. I whipped some books from my altar shelf for this one. Let's dive in. Some keywords for the Moon from the Rider Waite deck’s pamphlet of keywords are "Hidden enemies, darkness, danger, terror, deception, error." In the guide to The Linestrider Tarot, a deck I use often, some keywords for the Moon of note are "Deception, fear, confusion." A few of Biddy Tarot's upright keywords for the Moon are "Illusion, fear, anxiety." So I definitely see the pattern you're seeing. I've also only ever looked at the moon with love, appreciation and admiration too so I wanted to think on this for a bit and I think I found a solid answer. Let's go back to those keywords real quick.

Some other keywords The Linestrider guide uses are "Intuition, deep instincts, imagination, emotion, dreams." The Biddy tarot also mentions intuition, and subconscious for the Moon though and in the reversed position says the Moon represents "Release of fear, repressed emotion, inner confusion." And last but not least, the guide to the Fyodor Pavlov tarot (my favorite deck) explains this about the Moon card "The night is as necessary for achieving personal balance as the day. Under its cover we can see our innermost selves reflected in the Moon and come face to face with our own wildness. Moon shows us our shadow selves. She warns us against losing ourselves in the lunacy of our baser impulses and desires. She teaches us that it will not do to repress them, ignore them or turn a blind eye to them- doing that will breed dishonesty and bring hurt to ourselves and to the people around us. So, we must confront the shadow self, practice self awareness, and reconcile the inner animal with the person we must be in order to function and flourish." I say all this to say I think the Moon isn't just about the Moon. It's about the night and the darkness and how that makes us feel, including the darker parts of us. There's simple themes of how one might feel at night, darkness, fear, that there may be deception or hidden enemies around any corner, yes. But there's also themes of kindness from the moon. Her intuition and guidance. Inner emotion that may be repressed and scary, or fear itself. As well as themes the last paragraph explains better than I can, that we must be self aware, reflect, and be aware of the darker parts of ourselves and these feelings and desires. I think that can be a deeper interpretation of the Moon. You can take the Moon as being about fear in general, or as a warning of deception or hidden enemies. But you could also take it as being guidance about your fear, intuition, emotion and getting in touch with yourself and I think that's a much more positive way to look at the card that probably will appeal to the both of us!

Also in the spirit of the Moon and everything I just said, I'd suggest reflecting on what you said in your ask. Where does the Moon and all it symbolizes appear in your life? Maybe you could take it as that you're going through a difficult phase, like a moonless night, and that you're afraid and it will pass. Or maybe that you need to seek out more of what the moon represents to you to deal with that difficult phase. Just a thought since you said you were working on your own references! Feel free to take it or leave it lol. And thanks for reading!

#thesmallestofghosts #witch #witchblr #witchcraft #witches #witchy tips #tarot #moon card #moon tarot card #witch tips

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raymond-reddington-ruminations · 2 years

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Season 10 wishlist number 5.

Whelp, it's B-day.

And I'm still not ready for it. But, if wishes were horses here's what I'd want from the characters who are gone in the final season. Why not?

Katarina-we never really got to know her. Things were said about her personality that we never saw in ourselves. And I figure the reason for that is it would give too much away. So I'd like to see some flashbacks to her story and how she came to be herself, and who she was personality wise. What she wanted out of life. What she was like when she was happy, and going through transition. And this would involve...

Dom-interestingly, I think Dom said pretty much all he needed to say to tell us what he felt about our Red and why. We just didn't have the context to understand it. So I'd like to see him straight up saying the quiet part out loud. It will be ugly, but it needs to be confronted. Flashback or more ghost appearance, both would work.

Kaplan-the loss of friendship between Kaplan and Red is one of the great tragedies of the show. I would like to see another conversation between them. This would be similar to Liz talking to Kaplan after her death, or Red's conversation with Katarina in cape may. I'd like to see Red get some things out to someone who knew everything and was willing to hurt him in the worst imaginable way.

Tom-I'm convinced he knew more. Looking at the DNA report for the bones could not have been enough for him to figure it out. Liz eventually got to see it and she didn't figure it out. So Tom had more context. I believe Tom initially saw the DNA test Liz did on the sly in season 1, and I believe it said that this was Liz's biological parent. I want to see flashbacks to that.

Liz-yup. I know there's hints that she left on bad terms, but she put 8 years of her life into this, if there's any way possible that she would be willing to come back and do one more episode, rven one more scene, here's a list of what I'd like.

-the scene where Dembe gave her the letter. Her reading the letter. Her reaction to reading the letter. I cannot believe she would instantly accept and be happy about whatever it said. There had to be a process to get there.

-telling Agnes after she read the letter. I'd like to see exactly what she said.

-training Agnes to have some self preservation skills. It was mentioned, and I'd like to see it brought to fruition. I believe that that is something that should be necessary for Agnes in the final season. If the entire plot of the show is valid, Agnes is still in danger.

-Ressler having one of those internal conversations with Liz after finding out the truth of who Reddington is.

-Reddington having internal conversations with all of the above, when he confronts the fact that his identity is being revealed. I now understand why they put the reveal to Liz in such an other worldly way. If you just straight out have a character say this is what the answer is, even by showing flashbacks, ppl can twist it all over the place to interpret it some other way. Why should we believe what anyone says?? By making it other worldly you stress that this is the truth. I want another episode like this, I want a James Spader powerhouse episode like Cape May where he reveals and discusses the truth and his feelings about it with all the people in his head.

And as a final Roundup from things I want from characters in the final season...

Whatever happened to Rudiger?

Don't kill Chuck. He seems fun.

Hetti and the cleaners doing what they do.

Ilya and Ivan being there for Red in the end as they were in the beginning.

Anne-lastly, but maybe what I want more than anything else, I want her back and with Reddington in the end. There were so many little things that indicated there was Destiny between them. And maybe a prior meeting. I have a whole ass head cannon of how getting them back together could easily happen. I may have to write the damn thing myself if they don't give it to me. I've written a handful of fics in the past, though never in Blacklist fandom. I write at the pace of Continental drift.

Well, that's it for my wants for now. We shall see. Once more Unto the breach!!

#the blacklist #raymond reddington #season 10 wishlist

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darsynia · 2 years

Text

Trust Fall | ch4a سورج کی روشنی

(MCU, Tony/OC 'terrorists made us fall in love,' IM1 timeline)

ARC reactor image by Eury Escodero on Unsplash | gif by @villainelle

Summary: Emory Autumn works as a PA to pop star Rory Fall. While they’re in Afghanistan performing for the troops, Emory is taken prisoner along with billionaire Tony Stark. The terrorists think she’s Rory, and they’re expecting a ransom...

Length: 3,638 ((this chapter is in 2 parts))

Also! All chapter titles translate in some way to 'Sunlight.'

In this chapter... Tony starts building his project out of Stark weaponry, and he and Emory have a heated discussion about attraction dynamics between men and women

I’m shy as hell about saying this but if anyone wants to be tagged or ask me to write something please do! Tags: @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @arrthurpendragon

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Four: سورج کی روشنی

“We have to get her out of here,” Yinsen says. “Before they figure it out.”

“We can’t even get ourselves out of here,” Tony says, scraping the last of the food from his bowl. He looks down at the spoonful and leaves it, pushing the whole thing away.

“I’m sure they’re looking for you, but they’ll never find you in these mountains.”

The other man reaches for Tony’s bowl, stacking it with his own. “What you saw out there? That is your legacy, Stark. Your life’s work. In the hands of those murderers.”

For the first time, an emotion other than false politeness shakes the man’s voice, and Tony grabs his arm.

“Who are you? Cook? Interpreter? Conscience?”

He laughs bitterly. “My job description is a little above your pay grade right now, wouldn’t you say? You’re a contractor. Maybe even an engineer. But it seems obvious that you work alone, hmm?” The man looks over to where Boots is lying, still awake, her body curled up in the fetal position and radiating fury.

“Your name. Give me a name. Or I’ll start calling you something ridiculous, like the Babel Fish from Hitchhiker’s Guide.” Happy Hogan always says Tony’s recklessness comes out best when he combines it with humor, but he’s not coming up with his best material in this environment.

“How about I call you Bruce Wayne?”

Tony lets go with a sound of disgust. “I have way more money than Bruce Wayne’s fictional fortune.”

“You both lost your parents at a young age, inherited a fortune. Maybe even squandered it?”

They’re in the middle of a cave in Afghanistan, and this man knows trivia from his life? For a few seconds Tony has an awful suspicion that he’s a plant, on the side of the terrorists-- but his behavior towards Boots belies that. His behavior towards Tony belies that, too. It’s not deference, and it’s not contempt. Tony hopes that by the time he has a name for it, he’ll have done something to change it, and it won’t matter anymore.

“You’re confused. We met once, if you can believe it. At a technical conference in Bern. My name is Yinsen. Told you my first name in Bern, but I doubt you’d remember.”

“I don’t,” Tony says, brows furrowing, looking at Yinsen with a lot more respect. His conscience pricks him. Why does he respect this man more because he’s been to Switzerland, to a conference that Tony attended? Why is that what did it? Saving his life, albeit in this terrifying, body-altering kind of way, that wasn’t enough?

“If I had been that drunk, I wouldn’t remember me either,” Yinsen laughs.

Tony suddenly wants very much to change whatever it is that’s making Yinsen cover his true feelings with this humor that doesn’t become him. He wants Boots to look at him like someone she respects, too. A lifetime of people kowtowing to him, Tony thinks, and it ends in a cave in the middle of nowhere, with two people who think he’s a murderous piece of shit? Money isn’t going to get him out of this.

“Doesn’t look like I’ll get the chance to get that drunk ever again.”

There’s a sound at the door. Yinsen goes over to see who it is, comes back with a pile of clothes, all men’s. Tony snags a black wife beater, changes into it right away. Even in the short time he’d worn it, the white shirt Boots had given him had been rough on the wiring, kept snagging. He doesn’t want to stop wearing it, though. He likes the way it smells. Does that make him what she said? Tony doesn’t think so, but he does like to see her hair down. He would never force her to do that, and the more he thinks about it, the more he sees her point.

He was framing her looks as a commodity, something she, if she really were Rory Fall, would have already been in the business of selling. But he’s in the business of selling his innovations, his weaponry-- and he’s furious to be told he must build a version of his own designs against his will. Enough to be considering not doing it at all, and risking the consequences.

The parallels are so obvious he should stop calling himself a genius.

“So?” Yinsen says, interrupting Tony’s self reflections.

“So, what?” Tony asks, grabbing a beanie hat from the smaller pile. He wonders where some of the other clothes went, and then looks over to see that Yinsen’s set a small pile of them over by Boots’ cot. “She asleep?”

“Either that or a fury coma.” His condemnation is damning.

“Yeah, I owe her an apology,” Tony allows. “I don’t want them to use me, either.” He sighs, shakes his head, puts on the hat. The fire is dying down, and the cave’s not as warm as it was just a half hour ago.

“So what are you going to do about it? Wear their hat and tell them no?”

If Yinsen had been Obie, Tony would tell him to stop busting his balls about it. That phrase, though applicable, doesn’t seem appropriate at all for this slight, determined linguist/scientist/doctor. He does notice one thing, though. There’s less humor in Yinsen’s tone, now. That feels like somewhat of a victory.

“I can’t build what they’re asking me to. And when I don’t, I’ll be dead in a week, along with you and the girl.” Tony clenches his jaw. The words feel true in a way that makes him want to punch a wall that will collapse under the strength of his arm. That won’t happen here, he knows.

“Well then. This is a very important week for you, isn’t it?” Yinsen says. His expression is challenging, fatherly, man to man, in a way Tony’s never really experienced. Obie doesn’t relate like that, though Tony knows he thinks he does.

A disturbing thought floats through his consciousness, not staying long enough to make much of an impression. Obie’s been awfully jovial lately, too. Tony lets it go, chalks it up to cave fever, or something.

He looks over to where Yinsen was just sitting, but the man is gone. Tony sees him over by his own cot, meticulously setting his suit coat on a hanger protected by some kind of colored cloth, before sliding it into a garment bag.

Was Yinsen at a different conference, when he was kidnapped? He certainly hadn’t packed for this ‘job’ of his, and his attitude toward the terrorists isn’t that of an ally or a contractor. It’s more like that of a useful slave. Tony can be one of those, if it’ll keep them alive long enough to come up with a way to get out. Hell, if he stalls for long enough, maybe Rhodey can find him.

An important week, Yinsen had said. A week isn’t long enough, not at all. Tony knows his products, always has. That part of the business is important to him, and it impresses colleagues and women alike. There are a lot of his products out there in that stockpile. If he has to be building something, does it have to be a Jericho missile? And how long can he realistically take to construct it?

Yinsen wakes Emory up early in the morning the next day.

“Stark’s going to have them bring in all of the materials he needs to build something. It’s going to be a lot,” he predicts. “I brought you this. Sit here, seem busy, even if you don’t wish to read it.”

He hands her a well-worn paperback book with a cover that seems straight out of 1970’s sci fi. Emory doesn’t have time to examine it closely right away, because as soon as she and Yinsen move a second rice bag onto her cot and turn the one that was already there sideways as a bit of a barricade, the door bursts open.

The next three hours are full of activity. Stark’s in his element, it seems, his voice confident and droning, listing off things that he wants for his proposed assignment. She’d heard he and Yinsen speaking about the vast array of weapons with his name on them that had been assembled outside, but now they’re assembled inside their cave. Emory hopes to hell it’s safe, doubts it is, but oddly trusts Stark to be at least smart about how to make the space as safe as it possibly can be. He’s a well-known narcissist, after all, so his safety, she presumes, is paramount.

Yinsen had been clever in his warning. She covers herself with the blanket, leans on the rice bags, and tries to tune out the noise and bustle as best she can. The rice bags break up the shape of her body on the cot, the book gives her an excuse not to look around and make eye contact.

She’d been right about the cover (it was from the 70’s), but the book was published in the 50’s. It’s by Arthur C. Clarke, a name she recognized but had never read anything of. Childhood’s End is solidly science fiction, something she wouldn’t have expected Yinsen to read, though Emory supposes she doesn’t know him that well. The book’s set in the late 20th century, a time period that probably felt distant and exciting to Clarke in the 50’s. At the dawn of the space age, a technologically superior race shows up and halts war and conflict, imposing their will to create a kind of utopia.

When she reads that Earth’s new ‘overlords’ interfere to prevent behavior seen as harsh or barbaric, Emory understands more about why the mild-mannered doctor might have been drawn to the book. It’s hard to pay close attention to reading with all the noise, and she’s just barely gotten to an exciting point when it seems like the terrorist work crew are finally finished carrying things in. In the book, a human has smuggled an object designed to let him see what the physical form of the overlords are onto the ship where he acts as liaison. The character is desperate to see what they look like, why they’re hiding, and he uses the item-- and seems to be so horrified that he agrees with the idea that humanity must wait fifty years to see what he’s seen.

“You like it?” Yinsen asks, startling her. He’s standing beside the cot. She’s spent so much time ignoring the movement of multiple men around the room that she had trained herself not to notice.

“Yeah. Hard not to want to make some sort of strange parallels to our situation, though,” she says. “I guess that makes you Stormgren, the liaison. Have you seen the overlord here? It’s not that bearded guy, is it?”

Yinsen’s expression is pleased, but he shakes his head. “The leader here might be described as a devil, yes, but he would never cease hostilities for the good of anyone, much less humanity’s future.”

Emory sets down the book with a mental note of the page she stopped. She looks around at the cave, which is now covered in Stark-branded weaponry, to a frightening degree. “This seems like it’s proving your point fairly well.”

“Yinsen? Do you know if they gave us pencil sharpeners?” Stark calls out. He’s taken off the black overshirt, the white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and he’s got a clipboard in one hand, and what she assumes is a pencil with a broken tip in the other. He’s wearing fingerless gloves, too, which she’s kind of jealous about, because her hands get really cold at night, here.

“They did. The alternative was a knife, after all,” Yinsen says, with amusement. He leaves to go help Stark, and Emory sits back down on her cot, scratching at her leg bandage yet again.

With a sigh, she unties the leather strap and pulls the white cloth away from one leg. The stitches are dry, and Emory supposes it’s healing, since it’s itchy as hell. After freeing both legs (one had bled a little, probably from the night before, but it is dry and clotted now), she decides to forego asking for a new bandage for a while, rolling the pants down and ‘pegging’ them at her ankles to keep them to stay.

After going through the clothes Yinsen gave her, she finds a smaller shirt that buttons halfway down. Emory tosses a look over her shoulder, sees that both men are faced away and busy, and swaps shirts as quickly as she can. It’s grey, and she knows if she had a mirror, she’d probably see that it matches her eyes just about perfectly. With the sleeves pushed up, it almost looks like her size, too. There’s something really confidence-building about that, after what she has been wearing.

She puts on her sandals and makes her way around the various piles of actual freaking missiles over to the wide, new table that’s been set up in the middle of the room.

“Excuse me, Miss, but I’m going to need your name for my records if you’re going to be in proximity of all of this dangerous equipment,” Stark says, from his seat at the table. It’s a cute way to point out that they haven’t really been introduced.

Yinsen has told her that there’s no audio for the terrorist’s cameras, but there’s no reason to take chances. “‘Fall’ has so many negative connotations to it, why don’t you put me down as Autumn?” Emory says carefully.

Stark must be in a good mood, because this makes him smile. Like before, its effect on her is powerful, and she finger combs her hair over to the right side of her face and basically hides in it, trying to conceal the way her cheeks have to be turning red. Trying to tell herself that she shouldn’t think he’s attractive is like drawing a line in the sand and ordering the tide not to cross it. Even if the water could obey, the permeable, mutable state of the sand would mean the line would move.

“So you associate more with leaves than love, when falling?” he asks, his brown-eyed gaze direct and challenging.

Emory knows this man is way out of her league. “You’re the one who said I’m the hired help, aren’t you? I’m the gardener, not the roses, and definitely not the woman you give them to.”

“Would you agree that I have a certain… reputation, with women?” Tony asks Boot-- Autumn, a name he’s still isn’t sure is hers, but is better than the one he had been using so he’ll take it. Her expression when describing herself as some sort of onlooker to romance makes him feel a sense of responsibility to refute it. As the PA to a known flirty, flighty, fragile celebrity, surely she must know why she had been overlooked?

She’s backing away, her forehead creased with regret. “Never mind, okay?”

“No,” Tony says, getting up. “No never mind. You say you’re a gardener, well I’m--” he snaps his fingers, pointing. “I’m the florist. I’m all about variety. I don’t worry about roots.” He throws his hands out, picking up his battery and starting toward her. “I’ll come to you for advice on gardening, you come to me for advice on women.”

He can finally see her eyes clearly enough to note that they’re grey. They’re flashing with defiance, and honestly, Tony’s cheering her on, in his head. She’s obviously been under her boss’s influence for far too long, has gotten used to giving in far too often.

“I don’t need advice on women,” Autumn says. She has to stop her retreat, because she’s literally backing up into a box-shaped stack of Stark-branded missiles. Tony quickens his steps, so she’s trapped.

“You clearly do. You don’t have any objectivity about yourself.”

“You think you know better than I do the experience I’ve had being ignored by men for most of my adult life? Just by observing me for a few days?” she asks, voice thick with derision.

Tony puts his free hand into his pocket. “As a man, I can tell you that was almost certainly not about you. As a man who spent time with your boss, I can tell you that the fame chasers were always going to go for her, and so were the guys looking for an easy lay.”

The word ‘lay’ leaves his mouth a split second before he regrets saying it.

“I should slap you, but I don’t want to risk setting anything off,” Autumn says in a low, angry voice. Something about the tone sparks a deep, desperate desire in him to hear it in a different context.

Her new grey shirt fits better than the others, the first he’s seen besides the black blouse which nips in enough to show the curve of her waist. Autumn backs up again and Tony realizes he’d taken another step toward her. They’re barely six inches apart, meaning she has to look up at him. Her full lips are parted, and if Tony could hit pause on the moment, it could easily be mistaken for a sexually charged one, instead of anger. They’re staring at each other, her cheeks flushed, his breathing quickened.

“I could take it,” Tony says, leaning over to say the words like they’re in confidence.

“Take what?” she asks, brows furrowing, ready for a fight.

“The slap. Hit me.” Then kiss it better, he doesn’t say. It’s a line, one he’s said multiple times before, and it always works. Unfortunately, Autumn would probably be the exception. Power dynamics, again.

“Doesn’t that depend on where I’d slap? You’re not used to having a weakness, are you?” she asks. Her gaze drops from his eyes to where his chest bulges out from the electromagnet housing, then back up. It’s still healing, hurts like hell, and she’s right, it’s a weakness in multiple ways. But the solution to weakness, Tony’s always found, is to project confidence.

“I tell you what,” he challenges. “You don’t have to slap. Just touch me. Anywhere. Do it and I’ll move back.” He can’t wait to find out where.

“How about for once this week I not be at the mercy of a man?” Autumn sighs, rubbing her eyes with the finger and thumb of one hand.

“I’m not a terrorist. I’m on your side. You need to stand up for yourself. Push me out of the way.”

“Honestly, I’m better at doing that verbally,” she says, almost to herself.

“You think you can do that, go ahead.” Tony’s voice is just a little condescending, and for good reason. When he looks at a woman’s lips, verbal sparring isn’t what he has in mind.

Autumn crosses her arms and looks to the side, thinking. She’s sinking her teeth into her full bottom lip, and Tony is completely certain she’s not doing it to up the tension between them, even though that’s exactly what’s happening. Suddenly, she shoots him a bit of a shocked look and sucks her lips in as if telling herself to shush.

“That, right there,” Tony says with a smirk. “Say that.”

“It’s--” she falters, but looks up at him.

Her grey eyes are impish, teasing almost. Her attitude is slowly laying fuel for a bonfire of desire inside him, one whose strength is surprising. It’s more than proximity, he thinks. Tony’s standards are usually lower, when he’s got less of a choice-- but with every minute he spends with this young woman, the more unexpected respect he has for her. Except where it comes to her devotion to her boss. That’s her weakness.

“It’s none of my business, kind of an… intimate detail,” she confesses.

Tony would be glad to hear her describe something he did with Rory, if he can watch the effect the act of relating it will have on her. He’s already looking forward to it, despite having negative memories of Rory Fall.

“Tell me and I’ll step back,” he promises.

Autumn closes her eyes, her cheeks dusted pink. “Before the convoy left, Rory made a comment. I remember it because it’s just--” she opens her eyes to roll them, shaking her head. “Rory said you liked kissing too much, as if that can even be possible. But the thing is--” she looks up at him, right into his eyes. Tony is pinned. “It’s better with feelings. Kissing.” Her lips curve up into a secret smile, her whole face lighting up with an inner fire he wants to have been the source of. “A thousand times better. So that’s my ‘gardener’ perspective, to you, the florist. Lay down some roots, if that’s something you really like. You won’t regret it.”

He steps back for her, wordlessly. She’s just made him desperate to kiss her, while simultaneously throwing up a vibranium wall between their lips. He’s not a commitment guy.

Fuck.

Is this what Henry VIII thought, when looking at Anne Boleyn? Somehow inventing a new religion just to get a woman to say yes doesn’t seem so outrageous.

Tony heads back to the table and picks the pencil back up to complete the list of steps to safely access the small amount of palladium in the style of missile he’s going to start with. He takes some deep breaths, focuses on the kind of breathing and thoughts that will ease his arousal back down to a low ebb. There’s only one impossible thing that’s going to be happening in this cave, and that’s building his father’s dream of a miniature ARC reactor.

It seems much more likely than managing to get that earnest young woman’s face to light up picturing a kiss shared with him.

Next chapter, the head terrorist comes in with one of Rory's CD's, demanding that Emory sing something.

#tony stark #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark x oc #tony stark x original character #iron man fanfiction #iron man #iron man x oc #iron man x original character #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #tony stark imagine #series: autonomy #ocfairygodmother #fyeahsuperverseocs

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freetheshit-outofyou · 2 years

Note

The post of George Carlin is, since it's on your blog and you're a Trump supporter, in and of itself, biased. It speaks to the illusion that Carlin was a Republican. He was not. It also speaks to the illusion that votes are bought by Democrats. In this day of uncertainty as to who is more factual in their assessments of "voter fraud" you are programmed in your thinking to believe that Democrats are stealing votes. This last election was to be heralded as a "Big Red Wave". It was a trickle.

youtube

I mean, I have got to ask that question up front, because from this post and your assumptions about me you must be.

First, I voted for Mr. Trump because I wanted him to turn the system upside down, not for his politics, mission accomplished. I will not be voting for him in his 2024 bid. I don't like the guy, I have never liked the guy, I have made that very clear over the years, my vote was a tactical move, not a single party card vote, something I have not done since I was 19, I'm 52 now.

I have never, at any point disputed that Mr. Trump lost and you shitheads that keep dragging it forward are the same one who drag racism forward to keep breathing life into a dead horse. Both of them are still here because you fuckers keep it here.

Now let’s get to your misguided interpretation of Mr. Carlin.

I have been watching, hearing and reading Mr. Carlin's "teaching” since the 70's. Carlin is billed a comedian but what he really was, is a satirical philosopher and a damned good one. He was part of a small class of comedians that put the magnifying glass of comedy on all the parts of life that people want to keep in the dark and made us see it in the hard light of day and laugh at its absurdity while also nervously laughing because we ourselves worked and lived in the rabbit hole he just exposed. Today, Carlin is considered a Far FAR left nut case to be written off by the right OR used in clips by the Far FAR right to support this or that bullshit point. The left will not speak of him because they feel his ability to rip the curtains back on their “do as I say not as I do” agendas while forgetting the fact that he was a huge supporter of much of what Liberals support today. Things like gun control, social programs for the poor, women’s rights, and same sex rights. Liberals don’t like him because his light often shined on the problems of ever expanding government, government overreach further and further into everyday life and our homes, he spotlighted corporate greed and the money corporations feed into politics, among other political issues. I find Carlin's ability to shoot holes in the entire system while also giving answers to many of our collective ills in comedic format impressive and refreshing. It was never hidden what side he leaned too, but because he was able to peel the skin off both sides of the political spectrum while showing how the hypocrisy of the Right and Left pissed all over those in the middle, while also asking them to vote for them and give them ever increasing power to piss on them more was simply amazing. Honestly, I think this is why I voted for Mr. Trump because Carlin wanted the voter to flip the political table and let those who sit and rot in political power know that We The People are the ones who have the real power, not an elected orifice that has done very little for the PEOPLE while getting very very wealthy in office. I challenge you to read any number of his books, as I have. Maybe start with Three Times Carlin: An Orgy of George, It is 3 of his books rolled up into one. It has his first books from 1984 in it, Sometimes a Little Brain Damage Can Help, It was his first book I read when I was 19 or 20. Then maybe finish with his last book that is blunt, factual and amazing, Last Words, his autobiography. It was released in 2009 about a year after he passed in 2008. All you think you know about a person based off a few posts on a stupid blog about guns is wrong. But you won’t care, because like the very people Mr. Carlin shined the light on you are the king most high in your world of political delusion. “The habits of liberals, their automatic language, their knee-jerk responses to certain issues, deserved the epithets the right wing stuck them with. I’d see how true they often were. Here they were, banding together in packs, so I could predict what they were going to say about some event or conflict and it wasn’t even out of their mouths yet. I was very uncomfortable with that. Liberal orthodoxy was as repugnant to me as conservative orthodoxy.” Geroge Carling, Last Words Oh, and choke on a bag of dicks.

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toksinblack · 2 years

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I usually don’t share my thought on much of anything on the internet, but seeing how negative people, especially on Twitter are about Dream smp ending really rubbed me the wrong way.

I want to preface this by saying that this is all coming from my subjective experience and taste. You have complete right to disagree with me, I would love to have a conversation.

It feels like no matter what the ccs would have done, people would have been unsatisfied, because it seems like people had huge expectations for a silly minecraft roleplay server. I feel like if we look back at the lore streams themselves, they were never serious with maybe the exeption of exile and even then exile had plenty of goofing around, which people forget in favour of dramatic scenes. The fandom ourselves being angsty and hyperfocusing on those scenes does not help either.

Like with a lot of things the problem is that people take everything too seriously, at least regarding the ending, not the abuse portrayal (I have no experience with it, so I can't speak on it). I’ve consumed a lot of media in my life and spent a lot of time dwelling on how things could have been better. And don’t get me wrong, being able to critique is a usefull skill that helps us learn on other writer’s mistakes. But also being able to enjoy things not for what they could have been but for what they are made my life so much better.

It’s kinda funny how people say that the ending was rushed and dragged out simultaneously. Was it rushed? Personally, I don’t think so. Were lore streams far and few between? Yes. But also I don’t wish for them to have streamed everyday, like during quarantine. Again, personally, I have a full-time job, personal life and other interests and hobbys, so I wouldn’t be able to keep up.

I understand, that people probably wanted something grandiose, that involved every person on the server. But I have the feeling that it was simply not possible. I understand people being upset that Techno’s house is gone. I am too. But even if it was around, we almost never would've see it in lore. I'm content with going back to older vods and seeing both the house and Techno preserved in that small window in time. Unchanged. Forever.

What I don't understand is people on Twitter posting shit like "abuse apoligism??!!" And oh boy I'm gonna bite someone's fingers off. No, not it's not. People have already said this but I'll repeat for thr people in the back. Sympathy =/= forgiveness. Different people will have different interpretations of Tommy's last words. I saw the sorry as "I'm sorry things had to be this way" when he realized him and Dream ultimately wanted the same thing. It's this bitter realization that if things went differently they could have had happy lives. Or it could be "Sorry I have to kill you, I didn't want to kill anybody in the first place". It can be different things and forgiveness is not one of them. You think a guy who, just a few days prior, scolded c!Dream apologists will have his character forgive his abuser? Guys, please, have more faith in him than that, jeez.

I don't know which one it is: viewer's either a) inability to engage with media critically and taking everything on a surface level or b) willingness to engage with media and ccs in worst faith baffles me, either way.

There are also sentiments floating around that fans' time and energy, that they put into supporting the story over the past 2,5 years, was somehow 'wasted' by an unsatisfactory ending. Sure you can dislike it, but it shouldn't and does not take away from the fun and enjoyment we collectively had in that time period. It's not about the destination, it's about the journey.

Regarding the nukes, it's great that they used an already established pieces of lore, instead of pulling something out of their asses or going with a Deus Ex Machina. Admittedly, I haven't kept up with Tubbo lore, from what I've seen the nukes got stolen and they dropped the storyline, so to bring them back in an impactful way creates nice continuity.

I also understand from what I've seem that people wanted a good ending. That after all that suffering the characters deserved a nice happy live. I've got nothing to say on that, I enjoy angst. It has a right to exist.

And I understand the ccs wanting to flip over a new leaf, instead of letting everyone live and continuing with their characters. Yes, people have emotional attachments to these characters, but if they stayed in the same world they would've had to navigate through 2 years of lore and relationships that have accumulated and viewers would have been not happy if they got that lore wrong. So starting over allows them to have new storylines, new relationships without having to trip over preexisting convoluted mess that is dsmp lore. Everything has to end. Let's let go.

On that note, what upsets me is that a lot of lore streams are fucking lost media now. I loove how Wilbur made his lore videos, they're bite sized and easy to follow. I was trying to pick out important exile streams recently and god damn it's impossible. There will be them joking around, one important line and then another hour of not really important stuff, I swear.

In conclusion: let's enjoy thing for what they are and engage with media in good faith please. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

#rant #Dsmp #i understand that most likely most of these people are like 12 17 #and I'm in my early 20s should i even be talking abt mc roleplay #but I feel like engaging in these kinds of debates betters peoples media comprehension skills #toksin rambles

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streetlights-was-taken · 1 year

Text

[postscript] re:flect. re/fract.

← read on AO3 (available on 230411).

postscript was originally posted on 230317; re-posted (and edited) today to fix some tagging issues on the blog.

for venlumiweek2023.

day 2: corruption au.

i. conceptualizing the fic

I first conceived the idea of venti impersonating lumine back in 2021. I was struck with the image of aether, who just woke up, seeing lumine soothe dvalin in the woods. except that’s not actually lumine — that’s venti in disguise. I loved this scene so much that I wanted to write it, but at that time I felt that I didn't have enough material to make a fic out of.

I’m glad I postponed writing it until now. the fic has a stronger voice to it now, since venti’s reason for impersonating lumine is tied to irminsul’s ability to wipe memories. my initial idea was for him to just miss lumine a lot and to impersonate her to soothe aether’s loneliness. while this can hold on its own, the irminsul twist makes the story more interesting and gives it depth.

this fic has turned into more than just venti impersonating lumine. we also see lumine copying aether, and venti seeing lumine in aether. there is a running theme of becoming the one you love, and seeing the one you love in someone else. how different sides of you can be perceived by different people.

the title, of course, is a play on those themes. venti, wanting to preserve the memory of lumine, aims to be her reflection, a perfect mimicry of who she was. but as he learns about lumine outside of herself, he is confronted with how differently other people see her.

how aether is similar, but is not quite the same; a refraction of her image.

ii. unreliable narration, and the folly of being clever

while I was writing this fic, I was also reading emma by jane austen. emma is the story of a girl who’s very clever and smart, but her confidence in her cleverness blinds her from seeing situations clearly sometimes. I highly recommend watching the 2020 adaptation starring anya taylor-joy. it is such a delight to watch.

while reading the book, I thought to myself, “wow, I’d love to write a character like that one day.”

I was maybe half a scene away from finishing this fic when I realized I was already writing this kind of character subconsciously through venti and lumine. I was very surprised, but pleasantly so, since I wasn’t consciously thinking to “write emma” while writing this fic.

much of the fic is centered on this line: we like to think of ourselves as clever, but all our clever tricks have been nothing but folly.

one thing I wanted to explore with abyss lumine and venti is how they both have the tendency to keep secrets and think they have all the answers. this trait gives abyss lumine the confidence to save teyvat. this trait makes barbatos mysterious, and he doesn’t really reveal much to the player despite hinting that he knows way too much than we give him credit for.

this shared trait is also what makes lumine and venti intrigued by one another. in this way, they are the same. they are clever people with long-term plans for the future. I wanted to explore how that cleverness could work against them.

(I mentioned in the end notes that I’ll leave the fic up to reader interpretation. so if you want to keep your interpretations, please ignore the rest of this section and skip to the next.)

venti practices becoming lumine to prepare for the day irminsul wipes her from collective memory. since irminsul can’t change the physical realm, venti turns this practice into habit so that just seeing his reflection as lumine will trigger his true memories and keep irminsul’s fake memories out of the way.

and he’s not wrong! he really does remember the version of lumine that irminsul tried to erase. it’s a very clever trick of overcoming irminsul. but venti did not have the foresight to realize how much this will hurt himself. how much it will cause him to ache for her more, how he allows lumine to curse him to be there for aether in a way he wasn’t planning to. the cruelty of becoming, instead of being with, the one you love.

this is why venti commends dainsleif, because he saw this side of her much more clearly than venti did.

similarly, lumine had her own clever tricks as well. seeing venti try to become her, she trains venti to become the big sister that aether needs when lumine is not there. she was not doing this out of malice to venti, but we cannot deny that this is manipulation on her part. yet, even so, lumine was kind. she asked venti to wear cecilias, so that a part of venti will stay in that form. she didn’t want venti to completely lose himself in his impersonation.

and she’s not wrong! venti did become the perfect companion to aether, the big sister that knew all the ways to soothe and take care of aether’s loneliness. what lumine (and venti) did not account for was the cecilia. lumine asked venti to wear cecilias out of kindness to him. and yet, after the irminsul wipe, after she becomes the abyss princess, she is filled with turmoil. whenever she wears cecilias and looks at her own reflection, the flower triggers feelings of confusion and anger that she doesn’t understand. she doesn’t have her memories, but her body knows that this reflection is not her.

the cecilia is a clever trick. it makes her seek out venti to figure out why she’s confused, why her reflection is lying to her. it is also a source of turmoil for the abyss princess, a source of shame for making her seek out the gods of teyvat.

we don’t see this side of lumine since this is a very venti-centric fic, and I think that’s fine. some of it is implied. but at the end of the day, venti himself is an unreliable narrator, so there are many things that the fic doesn’t confirm.

he doesn’t call out lumine for manipulating him to be her replacement when he’s with aether. he states that dainsleif and aether knew the real lumine, that they figured her out and venti hasn’t. protecting aether is a duty blurred between lumine’s wish for her brother to be safe, and venti’s desire to carry out lumine’s wishes.

it’s up in the air if venti was deceiving himself about not figuring lumine out, and if he knew he was being manipulated by her. maybe he allowed it to happen, or maybe he didn’t.

a clever person wouldn’t have been fooled. and venti and lumine, in this fic, like to think of themselves as clever people.

again, it’s up to the reader to decide how unreliable venti is as a narrator.

iii. canon compliance

I wrote this before caribert came out, so there are inconsistencies with the timeline. caribert asserts that lumine traveled with dainsleif after the catclysm and created the abyss order afterwards.

of course, that is not what happens in the fic.

to insert venti into the timeline, I made lumine and dainsleif travel before the cataclysm. I quite like this decision. this gives lumine depth because her decision to leave aether stems from her love for him, for him to wake up to a better world. this ties into her desire to save teyvat, which is a desire that is easy to twist and gives irminsul some material to base off of when rewriting memories. this desire might also be something exploitable by The Voice in the caribert quest.

this also contrasts with how aether saw her. the lumine he knew wouldn’t have wanted to stay for good. but lumine did. lumine, changed by this world and moved by venti, wanted to make teyvat their home.

I also enjoyed writing dainsleif here. I think he and venti would have an interesting dynamic. since they traveled before the cataclysm, dainsleif is more flexible in his beliefs and is able to befriend venti despite being an archon, since he knows venti is not exactly a fan of celestia. they don’t begrudge each other, and they are both aware of how much they both love lumine. perhaps this is why dainsleif looks out for venti. it’s a shame he wasn’t able to turn venti into a proper atheist and free him from his chains to celestia.

#fic: reflect/refract #postscripts

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