#thank you for considering my thoughts

[phantomrose96]

Im usually much too shy to send asks but you gotta be the change you want to see, and i agree that asks need to stay so: would you rather right 1 horse sized rat, or 100 rat sized horses?

ah yikes... so my knee jerk reaction is "the 100 rat-sized horses, certainly, as those can be picked off one at a time." however the risk of my conscience catching up to me by the 30th or 40th horse is too great. how much death could I inflict upon these rat-sized horses before I vow to see death no more? even if pure survival instinct drives me through all 100, what of the aftermath? surrounded by the carnage of 100 tiny horses with only my own wet breath among 100 still chests? inconceivable. war is hell.

[nowahni]

dungeon lord chilchuck thoughts mmmm

uncoloured version + some more info under the cut :3

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Consider: depressed necromancers forced to go on mental health walks by their creations

"Get up, go outside."

It was like being ordered around by a chill running down his spine. He gave a blind, swatting wave into the space around him. "Piss off."

"Ha! You sure must be regretting studying resurrections instead of banishments, hm?" the ghostly voice echoed at the edge of his hearing. "I have aaall the time in the world."

It was absolutely killing him that turning off his hearing aids didn't work against ghosts. He opened his eyes, staring blankly up at the by now familiar shape floating above him. The look in the spectral eyes was infuriatingly soft.

"Come on. One little walk. And I won't give you any grief about your meal choices tonight."

"It's still light out," he gritted, too tired to even raise his voice. "And you can't make me."

The shining eyes narrowed. "Not yet I can't, but I'll learn. And I bet I'll be able to start chucking bottles of vitamin D at your head long before I'm strong enough to move your sorry ass."

"I did you a favour, you wanted this. And this is the thanks I get?"

Somehow the chill turned warm for a second while the ghost smiled with his whole face. "Yeah. I'm paying it forward."

He pulled the couch pillow over his head. "Go haunt somewhere else."

"Or, you could leave and go for a-"

"Fine, I'll go for a damn walk."

The ghostly laughter followed him all the way to the door and for a second it felt like the grey sludge gave way—

He paused with his hand on the key in the lock. "...are you coming or what?"

[blue-mood-blue]

I’ve grown to appreciate the aus where Shen Yuan enters the story as “Shen Yuan” - same name, probably similar face, generally able to interact with PIDW as himself and change the story through his added presence. I like the sense of “if only you’d been here, things might have been better the first time around” of it all.

And I was thinking, it’s a funny coincidence in that scenario that someone named Shen Yuan gets put into… another Shen Yuan. What are the chances? What a weird twist of fate that Airplane would pick out the name that his most dedicated critic could slip into seamlessly.

What about a version where it’s not coincidence at all?

Airplane goes to school with a kid named Shen Yuan. He’s prickly and hard to approach and a little intense, but Airplane is persistent. In fairness, Airplane is relentless - and maybe it’s a good thing that they end up being friends, because they’re a little too much for anyone else to handle. They balance each other out. They’re the “weird kids” in class and they’re okay with that, because even when they don’t have any words for it, they know they’re not like their classmates, not really. That’s okay; they don’t want to be.

Recesses and breaks are consumed with the elaborate stories that Airplane wants to tell, and all the holes Shen Yuan pokes into them. It’s not mean-spirited, though, even though Shen Yuan isn’t the kind to temper his words. It’s passionate. He cares about those stories the way Airplane cares about them, and it can’t be mistaken for anything else when they lean together conspiratorially across the lunchroom table. They’ve both got notebooks filled with details and characters and monsters. Shen Yuan’s practically got a whole bestiary sketched out in wobbly childhood attempts at art, entries fervently scrawled beside them. Airplane prattles out plots nonstop, always with the promise of shining eyes and being asked “what happens next?”

They come up with a whole world together. Airplane’s going to write about it someday. Shen Yuan is going to read every word.

Shen Yuan misses school. Shen Yuan starts missing school a lot.

Airplane goes to the hospital room instead. He doesn’t think to worry, because Shen Yuan is okay - that’s what he says. He looks okay, and he’s a kid, and it doesn’t feel real that anything bad should happen to a kid. He doesn’t think to worry. He doesn’t think to say goodbye.

It’s one of the older Shen brothers who catches him on the way up to the room one day, in the hallway just outside - snaps at him to go the fuck home, and when Airplane hesitates, pushes him into the elevator and tells him not to come back. “Tells” is a generous way to describe the way the words come out - a growl, a hiss, the sound an animal would make when a hand got too close to a wound.

(It’s not fair to name a villain after him, even if the name never really comes up in the story. He wasn’t trying to be mean. He’d lost a brother minutes before, and he was getting his brother’s friend out of the way so he didn’t have to… see. It isn’t fair, but then, none of it is fair.)

Death feels very real after that.

The notebooks get shoved into a closet, and it’s not until Airplane’s moving out and one falls on him from a high shelf that he thinks about it again. He’s written things, lots of things, but nothing as ambitious as this - nothing as important. It could be good, he considers. He’d promised. Shen Yuan wanted to read it.

The problem was that no one else does, not for a long time, not until Airplane has whittled himself and his art into a corner and into such an unfamiliar shape that he has to wonder how it’s still his own face he sees in the mirror. He has to eat. He has to pay rent. Shen Yuan would yell at him, but Shen Yuan isn’t there to yell at him, and who cares. Who cares if it could have been better? The people who actually are here love it, and it’s paying his bills, and sometimes stories don’t go the way they’re supposed to and the world is fucking unfair. It doesn’t matter.

(It does. But he shoves that thought away along with styrofoam cups and soda bottles to the bottom of a garbage bag.)

Authors are not gods and their power is limited, but Airplane exercises just a sliver of what he’s been granted and gifts an inconsequential sort of immortality. He thinks about making him a rogue cultivator, maybe the kind that goes around documenting beasts and compiling his findings. He thinks about making him someone too powerful for death to touch, or too important to threaten, but when Airplane looks at the world he crafted and everything that’s become of it, it feels like the kindest thing he can do for Shen Yuan is a childhood where he’s loved, and a death that’s peaceful. What does it say about that world, that he’d kill off his best friend too early again instead of making him live there?

(The best writing he ever does is the only, shining moment of humanity that his scum villain ever displays: a lament about death that comes too early, about a brother gone too soon. The commenters praise him. The commenters flatter over how real the emotions feel. The commenters don’t get any response from Airplane on that chapter.)

Death is incredibly real when it comes for him too early, too, still hovering over his keyboard with the story technically finished and incredibly incomplete. Airplane could tell himself that’s because the written version can never be the version in the writer’s head, always shifting and with every possibility still on the table, but he knows better than that. The System knows better than that, with its condescending message about “improving” his writing and “closing plot holes” and “achieving his original vision”...

…and he’s a child again. He’s a child in his own story, he’s Shang Qinghua now without the benefit yet of a peak or cultivation or anything, and maybe he’s a little bitter, and a little scared, and…

And Shen Yuan - with longer hair, with robes, with a couple of older kids watching him from across the street, but undeniably the prickly little boy who used to sit down imperiously across from him and tell him everything that was wrong with the chuck of writing that had been handed to him last period, but with that smile that said he was only invested because he knew it could be better and they were going to make it better - marches up to him with a fire in his eyes and a frown that warns of a coming tirade.

“You told it wrong,” is the first thing he says.

Shang Qinghua wants to ask how him how he’s here, how this is possible, or maybe laugh because, yeah - yeah, Shen Yuan has no goddamn idea how wrong he got absolutely everything.

(Shang Qinghua wants to say “I missed you” and “why did you leave so soon” but he’s here now. He’s right here.)

“I know,” he says instead. “I’m sorry. It all kind of… spiraled out of control.”

Shen Yuan frowns, but then it dissipates the way it always does, and his eyes shine with ideas the way they always used to. “That’s okay,” he relents, grabbing for his hand. “We’ll fix it. We’ll make it what it was supposed to be.”

[graff-aganda]

HELLO I MUST SCREAM ABOUT UR ENTERPRISE ART. THIS IS ME SCREAMING AT YOU. I LOVE IT SM. PLS KNOW I LOVE IT. UR STYLE IS SO COOL.

what!! 😭 you're way too kind omg... ;; take this doodle of the lads <3

[whyeverr]

popping in from my accidental semi-hiatus to share something that’s been on my heart lately…

my sims story / gameplay / whatever-you-want-to-call-it — the world I’m building in Rebuild A City — is about picking through the bones of society post-collapse and rebuilding something better. (sorry if you actually thought it was about zombie townies! it was socialism all along 😩)

I started this save because I was in a place where I didn’t feel a whole lot of hope, and I wanted to spend my free time and creative energy on something healthier for me than what I’d been doing previously (that is, killing sims slowly, on an island, with Nietzsche). I wanted to reinforce my faith in the best of humanity — mutual aid, community care, imagination, perseverance — and my belief that a better future is possible, in stories and in real life, even when the idea collapse starts to feel more and more inevitable…

and you know what, friend? I think it’s working 😳

and here’s the thing… in the endless discourse™ about the US election — and all the ways our candidate may or may not fall short of our own ideals as individuals, mine included! — I hold tightly to this hope I’ve worked to nurture, this feeling of promise that I’m excited about, but I refuse to let fantasies of building a better society from the ashes — in my silly sims story or in some hypothetical American future —to cloud the truth that we don’t have to burn it all down to begin with in the first place!

when voices say there’s no hope, or there’s no substantive difference between Trump and Kamala, or there’s no point in voting because we’ll keep arming Isr*el either way, or that we should all vote third party to “send the Democrats a message,” or that it’s actually somehow better if Trump wins because the US will collapse faster… look at who is saying these things 👀 perhaps a white person in a blue state…? someone speaking from a place of privilege, using their platform to accelerate their political revolution fantasy at the expense of minoritised and vulnerable people living in red states across the country? too many people my age made this same mistake in 2016 and we are still reaping the consequences today.

say no to accelerationist thinking. say no to purity tests, say no to voting third party as idealist self-expression or political aesthetic.

say yes to mutual aid and community care. say yes to voting as harm reduction, and organizing under a president who doesn’t want to outlaw political protest entirely. say yes to protecting people with uteruses, trans folks, queer people, disabled people, people of color, living in red states.

say yes — deep breath — to the reality that you as an American were born in (or decided to move to and become a citizen of) a powerful, expansive, and deeply flawed empire, and accept your collective responsibility to vote strategically. and the only acceptable strategy — the only strategy that does not lead directly to the outcome of a second Trump term, doubling down on the worst political outcomes here and abroad, and the promise of the end of free elections in the US — is voting for Kamala Harris on or before Nov 5. 🇺🇸🗳️

[bonus-links]

This series is amazing! I love the character depth you added to Slate and his ... death? But my question is, why is Era of the Wild Zelda (do you have a different name for her?) so jaded in the last bit? Was there something Loft did that I missed? It seemed like everything was done with good intentions, and Zelda would have noticed that.

here’s what I was thinking when I wrote the scene, and sorry for writing a bit of an essay lol: Loft did have good intentions, and both Zelda and Slate know that. But there’s also a whole tangled mess of reasons why they’re both pretty put out with him about it anyway, most of which he could have never known the context of, but kind of stumbled into trampling all over anyway by being so bullheaded. (To be fair, Loft has his own complicated reasons for acting the way he does here, but that’s not what this post is about)

For Zelda, she’s had a long time to come to terms with the struggle over her sealing power, the things her father said and did, the tragedy of Everything, etc— but the thing about being in limbo fighting tooth and nail for so long is that it makes all that trauma feel both like ancient history and as soon as yesterday. So for Loft to a) inadvertently (and he really didn’t mean it like this, but that’s what it sounded like) imply the sealing power she suffered so much over wasn’t even enough and b) pressure Slate about his inability to access his own divine power,,,,it rankles. Regardless of whether Loft meant it that way, that’s how it felt from her point of view. She’s also just, like, kind of protective of Slate about things like this.

[sovonight]

,

[mxtxfanatic]

Random Thought #33: Idk how to say this without sounding like I’m tryna diminish Jin Zixuan’s one moment of unambiguous good, but I don’t think Jin Zixuan defending Mianmian would ever have happened if he had to do something more proactive than just…ignoring the words of a man he had been building a simmering hatred for over the course of a few weeks.

Jin Zixuan is shown (and explicitly said) to side with people he considers “his people.” While they are all hostages of the Wen during the indoctrination camp, outside of that shared victimhood, Mianmian is simply a stranger to Jin Zixuan, while his “defense” of her is simply refusing to move out of the way when Wen Chao—the man who had been targeting him for harassment every day for weeks on end—ordered him to. This is a very passive resistance. And not to say that this wasn’t a good deed or any less of a powerful moment, but if Wen Chao hadn’t singled out Jin Zixuan for bullying, would he have still ignored the former’s words to move out of the way? If Jin Zixuan hadn’t happened to be standing by Lan Wangji and Mianmian hid behind only the Lan, instead, would he have said anything in her defense? Would he have even physically moved to shield her? Is any of that in-character with the behavior we are shown of his throughout any of the rest of the novel?

[simply-windy]

How do you think Dom lost his wing and eye and how did Valk and Firebrand react?

I'll be honest w/you. I've never really thought of that. If you want a like- Brief answer? I personally say it might've been an accident of some sort for both his eye and wing. And as for how Valk and Firebrand reacted? Horrified. Absolutely mortified. That's Valk's brother. That's Firebrand's grandson. They're going to panic and worry and do whatever they can to help Dom get better. And knowing how Valk is, he would've closed up the studio and cancelled all scheduled phights so that he can make sure Dom's okay.

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Oh shit I'm almost at 15k

Maybe we can do another headshot sketch spinning wheel request again 👁️👁️

[rivalmelty]

they are fukuzawa’s boys, adopted twins, and menaces to the yokohama police

(pls do not tag as beast)

[dumbbullet]

Aqua Regia is a mixture of nitric acid and hydrochloric acid, named by alchemists because it can dissolve the noble metals gold and platinum.

idk if anyone else bought the Yolk vinyl for TMBTE but they apparently upgraded it to solid gold and it gave me Thoughts.

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

Hi? Gosh how do I even start with this :'D

I know it's been ages since I've last popped up on here. I've been debating when to post this for a while, but I kept adding to my draft more and more and now it's the end of JULY omgg I felt so guilty disappearing with zero updates but then thought my birthday would be the best day to finally address this considering it'll feel less random? idk but Ive always celebrated my bday with you guys and I'd feel so bad answering your kind asks without me at least explaining why I was gone for months.

Truth be told, I was dealing with a lot of stuff irl. health issues and sudden declining grades that left me stumped and drained for months now- along with technical issues like having to replace some parts of my computer that took a while for me to find to even draw digitally, which I didn't have the time for anyway with how tired and weary I felt every day.

I'm frankly shaken up by a lot of shit rn and I don't know how to be active online with this burden on my chest- Especially as it's been a while since I've even looked at utmv related content and my motivation dwindled. I swear I'd hype myself up to post or reblog something- but I'd see just how much I've missed or the overwhelming amount of posts I'd need to go through and I'd feel so swamped with exhaustion and most importantly guilt, for not clearing the air up sooner to reassure you guys that I'm, y'know, alive, and not dead in a ditch somewhere. And I'd procrastinate cause typing it all out is hard and I'd give up halfway every time and it's just not fair to you all!

I thought I was handling it well when I started going out and socializing more, instead of staying cooped up at home on my computer all day. and in the first draft of this post I made months ago I was gonna detail some of the fun plans I had, for my life and for this blog :D but relaxing my strict study schedule and letting go a bit of my tight routine, thinking it was better than wringing myself dry to keep it up, backfired horribly, to say the least.

I know right?? so silly to be hung up on stupid shit like studies of all things! but this is a very important thing for me considering my career plans and the competitivity encouraged by everyone I'm surrounded by, the pressure of keeping up adding to my already stressful days. I had to fix myself up first and I couldn't handle the strain nor interact with people and thinking of jobs and exams sapped my energy so much it's frankly embarrassing. writing this feels so cheesy too and it frustrates me to know I could've come back a month earlier if it weren't for that, but I also know putting all of this into words then would just sound like incoherent venting (not that this is very different tbf) and I wasn't in the right headspace to address my absence, or anything really- I didn't want everyone to see me return when I couldn't muster up a genuinely positive message, let alone talk to anyone with a shadow of my usual cheer

I feel like a complete mess and It drives me up the wall how depressed I've gotten. I debated deleting this blog so many times 'cause the fear of disappointing my audience and my friends, for lack of a more fitting sentiment, made me feel even shittier. I'm constantly thinking if this wall of text is worth posting, or if it's better not to burden you all with all my sappy troubles as if it's the end of the world. Trust me, I'll be fine. I'm not trying to dramatize this situation, but I don't think I'm up to pretending I'm all sunshine and enthusiasm you're all accustomed to.

So sorry for worrying you all! I'll try to catch up, deliver some missed birthday gifts, and answer some asks while I'm at it! Again, I can't state how much I appreciate your support throughout the years. It's frankly a miracle I kept any of you around with how much I keep popping and leaving at random with no warning. I definitely can't promise for my stay to be without a hitch, and if you don't mind an inconsistent schedule you're free to stay of course, but I'm afraid I can't sustain the pace I had when I first started this blog. I'll keep posting art, but lower my activity in the fandom sphere to reduce the strain on my mental health. so fewer rants and walls of text, more art, and less stress overall. Love you all and thanks for waiting for this long <3

[tangledinink]

clenches fist. finally sucked it up and ordered a new ipad...

[wpmz]

a little ramble about the "ralsei is kris's old horn headband" theory (and why i don't think it's true):

i think the biggest issue i have with it/piece of evidence against it is the darkners are shown to have some memory of when they're objects. for example, chapter 1 darkners like seam and the spade king talk about being abandoned by the lightners, i.e. being left in the abandoned classroom, sweet cap'n cakes talk about what queen was like before the fountain showed up in their shop dialogue, in the spamton sweepstakes twitter qna it's implied that spamton knows noelle because she would always check her spam email despite this being well before the chapter 2 dark fountain could have been created, and there's probably others that i'm not thinking of off the top of my head.

so keeping all that in mind, if ralsei were the headband i feel like there would be some implication of him recognizing kris or at least having known lightners previously, but instead he talks about never having had friends before and waiting his whole life in castle town for the heroes in the prophecy to show up. this would only really make sense to me if he spent all his time as an object in the supply closet, or what feels more likely to me, that he is purely darkness, purely imagination, and not tied to an object at all.

i guess you could say that maybe ralsei forgot or lost his memories, or was told by someone else that he has to keep his identity a secret, but to me there just currently isn't enough evidence for why that would be the case, at least compared to what feels like the simpler explanation that being an object just might not apply to him, in the same way that turning to stone doesn't apply to him or being able to travel to other dark worlds does. ralsei is more different from the other darkners than he is similar in a lot of regards, and i think it would make sense for there to be a slightly deeper explanation for that than simply the fact that he's from the castle town fountain.

of course none of this explains why he's implied to look like asriel, which i think is the question most easily answered by the theory that ralsei is the headband. my best guess right now would be that it has something to do with connecting him to kris who is in turn connected with the player, but honestly i don't have much in terms of ideas on this one, at least until we possibly learn more about how ralsei or castle town even came to exist in the first place.

and of course, all of that said, this is all still just a theory and maybe i'm wrong! even while typing this up and thinking of possible counterarguments i've considered things i didn't think of before, and i do think it's a cute headcanon and it'd be fun if it did somehow end up being true, even if i don't think it's the most likely explanation at this point.