#there are lessons here and things i've learned

[applepixls]

foreign to me to not be writing everything in the tags but here we go rdgjmkh

your poetry is so visceral and beautiful to me and its so cool seeing quotes i recognize :))

these are the vibes i get from all the quotes :)

etho's fits so well to me and particularly reminds me of the scene in liml where he's talking to scar, bdubs and cleo after they've all died, about his regrets and if they'd try again

gem's has such the right vibe for her, its violent and like shes aware of something higher than herself in this hellscape

scar's. you. the things that first sentence did to me. it definitely brings the image of him in sl after winning and how all he's wanted is to live but after winning there's a sort of realization that he doesn't want to live without other people and.. that the win is almost like a punishment for how he tried to game the system? since 3l he promised not to kill if [insert conditions] and its like the game is finally bringing that to a head and punishing him

impulse's has a bitter, wise, melancholy feel i dont associate with hermitcraft impulse but its all about the circumstances that have made him this way

martyn's i have nothing better to say but i hope you know how well it fits

lizzie's reminds me of some of hers and jimmy's s1 esmp lore about being sea creatures that came from eggs and it has the same vibe as her saying "so i left this world just as i entered it; confused"

mumbo's has the sort of resignation of someone used to being thrown around like a ragdoll. others will try to fight the rules and win together or not kill or sacrifice themselves and some play into them aggressively and kill indiscriminately. mumbo on the other hand seems to accept this is how he lives now.

pearl's her quote encompasses a feeling i am very familiar with, that all the evidence suggests you are something to be killed or hated but despite it all, you. just. want. to. be. loved.

skizz's suits him so well. it isnt naive, blind hope. its a hope that's seen adversity and persists anyway. (i thank you so much for sharing the story behind this poem <3)

scott's poem has a sort of peace to it, an awareness of higher beings, like he knows after all the suffering it will end. and he holds on for that time

joel's feels like being pulled into the undertow. it reminds me of falling face first into the pacific ocean as a kid (it was very funny but also not). it feels like a sort of awareness that you put yourself into this situation in the first place, you're reaping what you sow but. it still hurts (i loved this poem when you shared it. i saw it at a time when i was going through a lot of change and it kinda made me see it in a different way, it gave me a fun image of floorboards being pried up and replaced)

tango's feels bitter to me. but it has the feeling of,,, never learning your lesson. like saying "I'll never do that again" and then doing it the next week. like by the end of one season saying "I've had enough im not teaming with them again" like scar and grian after 3l but by the time the next season rolls around and by the end of the first session some arrangement of best or ties has reassembled themselves.

cleos to me has a very similar feeling to scott's. and I've figured out the word for it. in universe, its like faith. the belief in a sort of better peaceful afterlife. and the surity that when you make it through it will be better. no matter how hellish your life may be

saw this post assigning devastating quotes to each life series members, got incredibly inspired, and decided to try my own hand at it but specifically with snippets of the poetry ive personally written throughout the years :] thoughts and musings on several of my choices will be under the cut if you're interested in that sorta thing!! Enjoy<3

Bdubs: "it's all so blue. so blue, so wet, so cold, but you've got a fire in your heart like a hundred rockets. you aren't hungry, but you could eat the dead, / cut your teeth on a rotting corpse."

BigB: "SOMETHING HAS FRACTURED HERE AND IT WILL NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN. EACH DAY YOU WILL CHASE THE FAULT LINES LOOKING FOR A BRIDGE ONLY TO FIND IT ALREADY BURNT."

Etho: "I am above myself, hovering, pressing pale fingers into the dull bruise of yesterday to test its lingering ache. Is this all that's left?"

Gem: "what are gods if not the mothers of our own inventions. we are the avatars of violence and love and hope and fear in equal measure."

Scar: "I think I want to live. I know one day, I must die. In the cosmic wheel of fortune, I am a gamble in the making, gentle breath washing a little luck over the dice."

Grian: "Within the shape of my clawed fingers are knives: scrabbled dirt; scarlet lines; the escape route / Between a fence and / Tall grasses."

Impulse: "Life's bitter, stilted offering / Is that every person we meet / Will one day become a perfect stranger."

Martyn: "Dangerous beasts must earn / Their survival. / You are no different than a knife / In the hands of murderers."

Lizzie: "When I think of the egg-tooth, / I revel in purple glass; the lightning; the shatter; the knife-slip between / Death, and a wake."

Mumbo: "This is your life now, / Found in the cracks and crevices, scraps pried between laughter and reckless abandon."

Pearl: "I am begging, raw in the face of absolution— do not hate me. Please, keep watering me in your garden, / Despite how closely my heart resembles a weed."

Ren: "— and sometimes hearts are forged in violence /— and sometimes blood cannot form scabs / — and sometimes wounds carry half-hearted sutures / — and we are all but living fragments / —"

Skizz: "Just a little longer. Please. / There is light pooling at the bottom of the flower vase."

Scott: "I can only hope that with the rising of the dawn / I will pass through darkness and return to day, / Where I am a solar ray blinding— teeth and claws sharpened, the stretch of my skin carrying gold / Above the dull, dug out earth"

Joel: "Tamed by nothing, no one, I lose myself to the shattered chains; / Yes, there is a loss."

Jimmy: "for year after bloody year, i clung to life with aching fingernails, grasped at every straw, took every scrap of double-barrelled hope and shot myself in the chest with it."

Tango: "every time you claw yourself from the ashes you insist it will never happen again. every time you reach the breaking point, it happens a little bit faster."

Cleo: "It's about catharsis, not letting go. / Because a part of me wants to hold this, / A swelling hurt deeper than tides, / Hotter than stars. The kind of rage / A mother might raise against her own child."

I dont share my poetry on here very often, partially because it tends to end up coming from a very personal part of me, but since this was actually a lot of fun maybe i'll start posting my poems more often here :]] i think what i found most interesting about this exercise was that as i scrolled my notes app and cherry-picked quotes for each character, it felt like the ones i chose naturally became part of a larger conversation-- as if the characters were speaking to me through my own words about their lowest points, about their ultimate views on the games filtered through the lens of a red life.

It felt enlightening; i dont often feel like im speaking to characters or being informed about their plots/preferences, etc. the way many other writers discuss in workshops or casually online, but by the end of this exercise i felt like i just... understood them, better than i had before. There's something inexplicable about reading your own words and consciously finding ways to apply them in a way that encapsulates them down to a character's core that just... truly highlights the specific qualities that resonate most with you. And i think stumbling upon that organically was a very vivid and incredible experience for me

Admittedly, i did struggle on Scott, Ren, and Etho a lot-- im not as familiar with them as characters, and for a while i couldn't quite pinpoint what exact themes they tend to carry with them throughout all their life seasons. But when i started to really look at everyone's quotes as a whole, i realized they felt like a story, like the response to a question-- as if i was being TOLD what they felt and how, and that that was how i needed to frame the rest of my selections. So Scott's ended up being about control, and the desperate hanging onto of it; Ren's is about the acceptance and bitterness of what he cannot change; Etho's is a quiet resignation rounded out with softer disbelief. The more i looked at these choices, the more they felt correct to me-- and while i still think i have a ways to go before i fully understand these characters, i feel like this has helped me a lot with that ultimate goal :]

Of all these poetry snippets, though, i think Scar, Skizz, and Joel's are my absolute favorites. Skizz's poem is actually the whole poem in its entirety (as is Cleo's, funnily enough)-- it's a short, very simple poem that is incredibly close to my heart for many reasons, but the main one being because it was written at one of my lowest points a few years back. Its about clawing for hope when there isnt any, and finding even the smallest of beautiful things to hold onto, and begging yourself to keep holding onto that at any cost. The pure, clean beauty of watching light refract through a vase of flowers, and knowing that sometimes, that's all there is to live for-- I felt like that really spoke to Skizz's life series character as a whole: finding the beauty in every tiny thing, no matter how small, and scrabbling for more time to appreciate it.

Scar's snippet comes from a much longer poem of mine about the difficulty of reconciling the idea of a future when you havent had to think of one before (incidentally, Etho's snippet comes from this poem as well). I think out of everyone, this quote encapsulates him the best; i like how it subtly references that inner well of vivacity he draws from that many other characters struggle to find, and how that in turn ties in with the lore that he never died a final death during Secret Life. And i love how it simultaneously manages to encompass the way he utilizes the social game in each season as well-- Scar's an incredibly intelligent social player, and i think the imagery of a gambler breathing their luck over the dice as they cast it, and as he casts himself at others for alliances and enemies, truly does fit him.

As for Joel, the full poem his quote comes from is one im particularly proud of, especially for its final lines. I think, quite honestly, i can let this poem stand for itself in its entirety:

They say transformation is letting the light in, But in my mind it's a violence. A coarseness, a fracturing, the bloody vowels between a scream And a howl. How do you transform without killing yourself? When I am a lion, my hands and feet Grow claws; my teeth sharpen. No longer do I spark— I ignite. Tamed by nothing, no one, I lose myself to the shattered chains; Yes, there is a loss. To transform is to leave behind a body And eat its still-breathing corpse.

I find myself referencing this poem a lot even in my daily life-- as longterm readers of mine already know, one of my favorite themes is that of replacing yourself and permanent transformation. This poem really is just about how changing, in any shape or form, alters you forever; how you can look back on yourself from even just a few months ago and feel like a completely different person despite remaining the same. Connecting it with Joel's character, and how he acts during his red lives in each season, was a natural and intuitive progression once i really sat and thought about it.

Alright thats enough yapping from me 😂😂😂 im not used to writing meta nor delving into my poetry on here, so this was a bit of an experimental post for me. If youve read up until this point, i both applaud your patience and really hope you enjoyed this window into my personal works and thoughts on them :]] cheers, and thanks to @/chipperchemical the op of the original post for inspiring me!!!❤️❤️❤️

[shorthaltsjester]

sorry if it was unclear but the clarification on ashton's position in 110 that has made the ugliness of his current ideology clear was not the fact that he listened to what was said to him, it was his claim after that "The shard of titan in me, it's good. If things go the way I think they're going to go... I think nature is ready to right itself one way or another. [...] I think the world is ready for a bit more chaos. I think that we could be good for this place and I think we will more than survive the gods, if it comes to it ."

First, claiming that nature as titan has any moral standing at all is a bold move, because then ashton is ascribing the exact same power structure he thinks is inherently horrible with the gods to the titans. the titans are morally neutral if taken to be part of nature, the shard is just power, ashton's assumption that there is something about the titans that makes their responses and role in the world more right, natural, or most of all good is literally just. textbook essentialism.

but second. one of the first pieces of communication in that exchange was a correction of ashton's thinking (one similar to the correction the matron was trying to draw out as she kept bringing up the agency of mortals and their power). when ashton says "i'm a part of you." they're corrected and told that actually she's a part of ashton. in the literal sense this is obvious that the shard is inside ashton, but it also speaks to the pattern of bh looking everywhere but inward for an answer to what they should do, which is rather comedic given the degree to which ashton is willing to reinterpret anything said to them to get a specific answer but not actually uphold their own agency when it comes to 'nature righting itself.'

particularly i find revealing the "we will more than survive the gods" part. even taken as generously as possible and assuming ashton is just exercising his lack of judgement and does mean all mortals in his use of the "we" pronoun there, he has completely overlooked what was explicitly said about how, if the world is remade, only the strong are likely to survive. paired with the notion that the world needs a bit more chaos after spending weeks with several people whose lives have been irreparably damaged by the chaos that the other person in exandria who is appealing to a greater power to free him from the responsibility of dealing with his trauma at any cost... even my best faith still comes out of that looking at ashton (as someone who literally earlier in the same episode pushed back against his party members being optimistic because it wasn't realistic) as someone acting with naive optimism for blatantly selfish reasons. also just, general icky feelings about ashton referring to nature righting itself, the world getting more chaos, if things go the way he thinks they're going to go in vague, hand-wavy fashion when he should well know, punk icon that he is, all the violence those notions include.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s3 episode 11 thoughts

dare i say it… new favorite episode?

whatever expectations i had, they were blown away. usually the episode after a two episode arc feels weird and stiff, but this? this hit every box on a checklist i didn’t even know i had.

i’m bouncing off the walls right now. i'm pacing my room and mumbling to myself while gesticulating wildly. i am filled with an energy that caffeine has not ONCE given me. and it's called "your character, that is so near and dear to you, got an episode dedicated just to exploring their inner life and workings and belief system and faith in God and the world". try it if you get a chance.

so let us begin. let me give you my verbatim notes, so you can watch the excitement grow.

oh boy! oh boy oh boy! i am excited! and i know by now to not expect any real continuation from the last episode, but i’m still excited because the last two were so good! and this one is like… good omens? with a kid that can start the end of the world?

wow. never have i thought to myself, how would mulder and scully handle biblical revelations? but here i am. wondering it.

hope the kid is chill. hope he has good vibes. mulder will like him anyway because he’s actually a huge softie but still better if he’s got good vibes.

we open on a sermon. the priest or pastor- depending on the denomination- whatever his title is, he is talking about faith. saying that miracles are real. and now he’s shaking and moaning. is this one of those churches?

OH HE’S BLEEDING from between his knuckles like some sort of blood wolverine. people are looking at him, thinking, what is going on? and this is something i am also wondering. maybe it was fake though…. little capsules in his hands, maybe???

he’s dabbing off his makeup now. as a man enters his dressing room. saying that some people really do believe. but he’s being weird.

and then this guy escalates to murder. and when he touches this pastor he’s burning up??? huh??? a firebender?? in pennsylvania??

THE INTRO WAS DIFFERENT AGAIN THIS TIME. WHY DOES IT CHANGE. i have come to know these beats VERY well!! they are like a heartbeat to me. you cannot simply alter them as you see fit!

scully looking at the body of the dead pastor/priest, talking about how it looks like rope burns around his neck. mulder crouching VERY close by.

HEHEHEHEHE mulder is like “he was bleeding from his hands like the crucifixion” and scully goes “stigmata?” heheheheheeeee i’m blushing

(talking about belief systems is apparently a way to my heart? like c'mon, tell me how you understand the universe and which elements you surrender to knowing that you will never comprehend. you look cute while doing it)

no wounds on the hands, though… so mulder licks the blood. and i froze JUST as scully makes this horrified face... i’m CRYING. yes, it is fake blood, and yes, he has some on his lips and teeth, and yes, its adorable. but what a risky move!

ohhh he was wearing a sugar pump sort of thing! yum yum. couldn't be me, i'd be slurping that.

so mulder has been tracking religious murders related to stigmatics (excellent word!)

scully’s talking about how certain people believe at any given time there are 12 stigmatics in the world. and they represent the 12 apostles. and i’m blushing terribly.

nods solemnly. i am learning a lot about myself through this show.

scully you are so preeeeetty. 

okay, cut to elementary school in ohio. kevin is blowing spitballs. his teacher is bullying him into doing math on the board. when all of a sudden, his hands start bleeding!! and we see that he has the holes!!!

he’s in the nurse’s office still when mulder and scully show up. damn how did they get to ohio that fast… OHHH they had put out an FBI alert and maybe this happened more than once.  yes, this is exactly what is explained mere moments after i made the initial comment.

so it happened BEFORE, and they assumed it was an incident of abuse, but it wasn’t proven. still, his dad was institutionalized after saying Kevin was chosen by God. okay! things escalated. 

scully is talking to the boy. she feels his forehead and says he feels feverish. okay doctor!! and she says he is very brave. queen. smart and kind.

mulder is meeting kevin’s mom. explaining that he might be in danger from a religious fanatic.

oh! the thermometer in his mouth broke. straight up exploded. hope that was fake mercury in there.

they’re going to put kevin back “into the shelter” which i feel like would make him an easier target for a serial killer?? but on the off chance it WAS his mom, it would make him safer. so mixed feelings here.

mom yells at the teacher, teacher says she loves her job, and mulder has this excellent smile. then waves scully out to leave. it was kinda funny to me for some reason, the waving her out. quite domestic. 

mulder thinks the kid did the cuts to himself to get his father back. hmm. not buying it. so they go to talk to kevin's dad. 

dad claims the forces of darkness have been watching kevin. in the great war between good and evil. he’s really talking to scully and he says they just “come full circle to find the truth”. she says dude idk what that means?? and he says “you will” okay... i’m creeped out a bit!!!

kevin is back at the children’s home. telling a bunch of other kids scary stories. and he seems to be explaining a scary guy who is walking into the building as the storytelling goes on. just as the scary guy enters, all the kids leave. scary guy is looking at the wounds on kevin’s hands!

soon after, mulder is with the group of children who saw the guy. we learn here that mulder is 6 foot 1. which is very funny. 

kevin was abducted by the fellow it seems he was describing before his arrival!!! and his mom seems to blame scully. she looks really upset.

they see the drawing that they think does not look like a real person, and kevin’s mom is like it’s owen, who did the yard work. 

so it’s owen time. he’s carved noah’s ark and he has kevin. but he says he can’t let him go home. because it isn’t safe. he refers to himself as kevin’s guardian angel. hmm. that makes me suspicious.

owen grabs a shotgun when a car pulls up. but the agents get him to put it down and scully is on a quest to find the little dude. and he was there… but now he isn’t?

so owen says God asked him to protect kevin. 

OH ANGRY MULDER IS GONNA QUOTE SCRIPTURE AT YOU!!!!! now give him some DAMN ANSWERS!

owen is like, well YOU believe, don’t you scully, because you have that necklace on. he’s calling her a BAD CHRISTIAN??? the audacity….

then owen gets up and JUMPS OUT THE WINDOW??? and runs away??? somehow??

(mulder jumped down from the porch to chase owen, and his big coat floated around him like a cape... i giggled)

now where did this dude go...?

kevin made it home!!! he’s yelling for his mom. she doesn’t seem to be there, but someone rang the doorbell. and we only see a quick glance but it LOOKS like the killer!!! 

who burns off the doorknob with his firebending!!! so yes, it is the og killer from the start of the episode! he comes in and asks for kevin. saying he knows he’s here.

mom, now would be a good time to roll up with a gun. 

he picks up a family photo and sees kevin in a picture then checks the closet to see if he’s in there but kevin is in the hamper. and the hamper is bleeding!!! dead giveaway. 

but owen rolls up just as the firebender guy opens the hamper, and starts fighting for him!! so kevin is making a break for it!!!

he runs and runs and RUNS INTO MULDER!!!! scully is telling him that he will be okay.

they only find dead owen. no firebender.

and kevin asks scully if she was sent to protect him… she does not seem to know what to say because. do you mean like by the government... or jesus?

autopsy time!!!! she’s talking into the voice recorder like always. it always gives vlog energy. anyway, his body looks very much alive. despite the very much dead thing. 

mulder interrupts this. and scully asks him to SMELL the dude. he obliges. with only a smirk!

scully says he smells a bit… floral.

OMG!! OMG I RECOGNIZE WHAT IS GOING ON HERE. they talk about it in the brothers karamazov, how a holy body is said to stay intact and even smell good when it ought to be decomposing. so the real question is: is she imagining it?

i mean, she is the body expert. so i’d want to say no. but also, this dude was playing with her head. so it’s hard to say. i'd think she would identify the body correctly no matter what, but a little smell hallucination thanks to the power of suggestion cannot be ruled out in any situation.

AND SHE TALKS ABOUT IT!! apparently it is something you learn in catechism. okay, well i just picked it up from that summer i got through that book, but we all learn somewhere. mulder is like “you’re serious?” and i feel he should be encouraging this open discussion rather than ridiculing it. AND SHE STARTS NAMING SAINTS IT HAPPENED TO!

mulder is saying that those things didn’t really happen, and i’m not taking this from alien man.

mulder has transitioned into listening mode now. OH! SCULLY! she says:

“isn’t a saint or a holy person just another term for someone who’s abnormal?”

“do you really believe that?”

“i… believe in the idea that God’s hand can be witnessed. i believe he can create miracles, yes”

“even if science can’t explain them?”

“maybe that’s just what faith is”

YES! YES I AM CHEERING AND JUMPING UP AND DOWN. we were owed a scully-centric episode, and never did i even THINK we would get something so aligned with my interests that we’d start exploring her religious beliefs and how that intertwines with her faith in science and her work. that sounds like something i’d write a fic for because it’s hyper specific to my interests. but no. this is CANON!

mulder is saying that she shouldn’t get swept up in these things (and how ironic that the roles are reversed! it’s exquisite. we’ve found his weak point, he’ll believe in anything but a Christian God)

scully is lost in thought. taking a deep breath. steeling herself.

pause. it’s a scene change. but mulder has a pencil in his teeth. it’s adorable, really. he takes it out to write something.

they pulled prints from owen’s neck!! burned right onto the skin. and they found who did it!! the man i was previously calling the firebender, his real name is simon gates, one of the south’s wealthiest men, arrested 3 years ago on a DUI. 

so then he went to israel, and this is how i learned of something called “jerusalem syndrome”, where people come back from the holy land with religious delusions. i have not heard of this before. but it could be a motive. except for the whole burning fingerprints into necks thing. i'm unfamiliar with any sort of place turning you into prince zuko.

okay, so someone saw kevin with his mom the same time he was seen with a social worker??? doubles?? twins??? ghosts??

kevin and his mom are on the side of the road with a broken down car, when who pulls up but SIMON!!

she asks what he wants and he says “i think you know”, then kevin makes a break for it.

now. can an old man outrun a child? children have small legs, but boundless energy.

BUT HE’S RUNNING?? AND ANOTHER KEVIN GETS OUT OF THE CAR??? to talk to his injured mom. then running kevin DISAPPEARED!!! AND MOM HITS THE DUDE WITH A CAR!!!

sadly, it wasn’t out of excellent aim that she hit him, but rather because she had her face smacked into the ground by simon and was concussed or something similar. she drove into a ditch. 

NO!!! KEVIN IS SAYING SHE DIED BECAUSE OF HIM. DEATH??? I JUST THOUGHT WE WERE DEALING WITH CONCUSSION HERE?

i guess it can be a quick trip from one to the next. but i'm sad for poor kevin.

scully is near him, telling him she promises she won’t let simon hurt kevin. OH LORD, YOU GOT HER PROMISING THINGS, SMALL CHILD.

he doesn’t want to go back to the shelter. and she says he doesn’t have to. are they going to take this small child for a bit….?

she avoids mulder’s gaze when telling him she wants kevin to come with them, saying she is not getting personally involved, but like mulder is gonna complain having a kid around. 

(he actually didn't seem to have his typical instincts kick in today. how curious...)

and turns out simon rented the car under the name of one of the devil’s disciples. yikes!

so creepy simon is watching this go down despite being hit by a car. 

back to the motel. scully is running kevin a bath and sees he has a big scratch on his side. from the crash… or?

mulder is fake pouting. “you never draw my bath” JCHDJSBJSND

she’s freaked out because she knows that cut was NOT there before. OH? is it the jesus spear thing??

she is busting out her theological training- he could be in two places at once, like st. ignatius! and mulder is talking about how it was all a metaphor, that bible. mulder, if you are dismissive ONE more time...

OH, I GASPED AT THIS NEXT PART. HOLD ON I NEED TO WRITE THIS DOWN:

“how is it that you’re able to go out on a limb whenever you see a light in the sky, but you’re unwilling to accept the possibility of a miracle, even when it’s right in front of you?”

“i wait for a miracle every day, but what i’ve seen here has only tested my patience, not my faith”

“well, what about what i’ve seen?” 

UGH. how PERFECT is that dialogue!!! how brilliant is that exchange!!! why is what she has seen less believable than his x files and aliens and beasts? he spends so long looking to his own stars that he’s forgotten others can form constellations as well. and how often does the narrative favor him, his thoughts running like a prey animal, chasing and chasing any sort of lead. why can’t she have something that cuts her to the quick just as deeply?

sure, science is great, science is the building block of her reality. but you can’t change the way you grew up, either, the pattern recognition, the fear of the divine. and she’s never had trouble balancing the two, we just haven’t had a reason to see them interact before, because she generally compartmentalizes the day to day world and the spiritual- and how many of us can say we do the same? probably most, if we believe in anything at all. but then it comes straight to a head- and after she has been through so much as well, losing her dad, her kidnapping, her coma, losing mulder and her job (which luckily came back), losing her sister forever- is it selfish to want there to be a caring force out in the universe?

but on the flip side, that means that there is real and genuine evil, forces of the devil and hell- unless you think it’s poetry, like mulder does. but wouldn’t that explain all the suffering she’s been through? the horrific things this job has showed her? and wouldn’t it be worth it in the end to go through that all if you know it was to be defeated?

okay i just spend so long typing that up the screen went dark. SORRY SORRY I’M COMING BACK I PROMISE!!! I JUST GET EMOTIONAL.

NOOO! a weird noise was heard, so mulder kicks down the now locked door where kevin was supposed to be taking a bath. AND THE WINDOW WAS MELTED OPEN!! so scully basically comes face to face with the evil that must be real if miracles are as well. oh! i’m eating this up.

but she promised him he would be safe! so this is not looking good!

she wants to go talk to his father again. and mulder doesn’t want to, but she is NOT taking no for an answer. 

kevin’s father is not coming up with an answer. the doctors have increased his meds and he’s very foggy. 

she asks again about the full circle to find the truth thing. and she runs out, in a daze.

mulder gets a call that there has been a simon spotting, but she doesn’t hear; she’s pointing at a recycling bin, saying that it’s arrows that form a circle. she thinks he’s at a recycling plant; he thinks he’s at the airport.

mulder asks if she thinks she’s the one that was chosen to protect him. and she says she doesn’t know; her voice cracks as she says that if she’s wrong, she’ll meet him at the airport. OH! religious burdens, the divine pressure of fate. he watches her leave, looking troubled.

at the recycling plant- and simon IS there, saying kevin has to die, for everyone, so the new age will come. and his hands are bleeding again. all the others were false.

SCULLY AMBUSH!!! but simon is taking him into a recycling chopper. AND HE DROPS HIM IN!!! we see chopping occur!!! but it was SIMON AND NOT KEVIN THAT WAS CHOPPED!!! kevin caught himself on the ledge!!!! she pulls him up.

he says he knew she’d come, and they hug so so so tight, and she places a kiss on his head when she’s holding him, and i’m gonna cry like a baby

when they’re getting him around to leave, she says that maybe she’ll see him again sometime, and he says that she will.

and scully looks like she’s crying- i don’t think she is, but she puts her head in her hand- mulder comes in and asks if she’s okay. she says she thinks so, and he holds out her jacket to put on. it might have been the most tender thing i have ever seen. he says they need to go make a statement; she asks him to do it alone, she has to go run an errand.

again, she mostly avoids his eyes. but he agrees, and goes to make the statement alone. he doesn't press.

AND SHE GOES TO CONFESSION???? FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 6 YEARS??? she starts talking about not being able to discuss something with mulder. she asks about miracles; if she was seeing things when it comes to saving kevin, or if she was imagining them. 

she doubts herself because mulder didn’t believe them!!!!!!!!!!! and usually he believes without question!!!

maybe they weren’t meant for him, maybe they were meant for YOU, he says. and she asks if this was to bring her back; he says “sometimes we must come full circle to find the truth”

and it makes her afraid!!!! that god is speaking but no one is listening!!!!

WHO THE HELL WROTE THIS EPISODE. NO. NO, HOLD ON I’M GONNA LOOK THIS UP. 

KIM NEWTON. KIM. YOU ARE THE ONLY PERSON WHO GETS ME ON THIS PLANET. NO ONE ELSE DOES.

wow okay. i’m going to be pacing my room about this for 100 years. there are going to be think pieces about this, from me, for the foreseeable future. i’m losing my MIND.

i don’t think i could have cooked up a more perfect episode if i had tried. something centered on scully entirely (mulder has had his fair share of attention), something about faith, something where she questions what she holds close and why she holds it close and what it means that she does so at all. what it means for there to be human good and human evil and divine good and divine evil. how god speaks to people and how we listen. or hear things that he didn’t say, like simon did. 

holy FUCK i literally could not think of anything better. and i have SO much to say. i already SAID SO MUCH, too. like i’m seriously bouncing off the walls right now. whatever love i had for scully before just quadrupled- and who knew this was even possible??

for things to be reversed, for mulder to try and talk her out of a belief, how bizarre that must have felt to him, and how cold it felt. how he just couldn’t see it, how his not being able to see it drove her to doubt herself, how she must doubt herself already, but that sprung everything to the surface. how she doubts that god would use her. and use her for good. 

but still, despite his lack of understanding, despite his trying to get her to think rationally- he is there for her, even if he doesn't get it, even if he could have done better. the way he held her jacket while she processed everything, the way he didn't question her needing time for herself. somethings are best left unspoken.

lord, i’m gonna have to stop there because if i don’t. i just might never shut up ever ever ever. and i still need to proofread all my raw notes, and i’m sure i’ll think of something else to say.

i started this episode AN HOUR AND A HALF AGO LMAOOOO i just had SO much to pause and observe and say which is NOT a complaint in the slightest. 

wow. new fave episode i think. i’ll have to add it to the list. 

please let me know what you thought- are there any other scully truthers out there who lost their minds over this? did you like the episode? is it disliked and i'm strange for going on such a ramble? did you have trouble reconciling faith scully and science scully? personally i don't, but i could see how some people might. did you find mulder too dismissive? or did you think he was trying his best? some combination of both? did scully protecting that kid make you emotional? please, spill EVERYTHING. i always want you to spill everything, but now so even more than usual.

[aqua-grunt-zesty]

Scrambling to her side . . her body shaking and her breathing slow but overall . . nothing too concerning . . however its only when she reaches out her hand and gently grabs onto mine do the tears finally flow to my eyes. . .

Oh . El . .I'm sorry . .I'm so sorry. . .

And with that my body finally caves in . .a shaking crying mess as Elena softly smiles at me. Her fingers rubbing against my own. Her breathing becomes ever so slowly more stable but my own guilt eats at me. What a hell of a few years this has been . . . and it was all for nothing.

I'm done . . I'm so done. But it hurts too much. . .this isn't fair at all El. . .

As my hands cup her face I finally have a chance to look into her eyes and see what I've been missing for so long.

El . . we were going to do so much together . . we were going to get ourselves sandwiches . . and watch our favorite anime's . . and walk around the beach until our feet were covered in sand just like we used to do . . .

As my tears fall down upon her face and the sky clears up above us. It was here that I realized my truth.

. . . but you aren't her . . none of them ever were huh? . . . Oh Elena why did you leave me . . why did they have to take you away from me . . .

As the sun peaked between the clouds that oh so familiar Star Child finally revealed themselves to our location. Jirachi descended before us.

Speaking out to it I say my final piece.

Fine . . you win . . lesson learned I guess . . She was never gonna come back . . .and there was nothing I could say or do to fix that . . .so I guess the only thing I can say to you is I'm done . . . I'm not gonna kill her . . .I'm not going to let anyone or anything kill her this time . . this is the one universe she's not dying in right now . . .I've had my fill . .

And so with a flash of light as starlight dances around us . . that Jirachi touched my forehead for the very last time . . and in the blink of an eye they were gone . . and for once breathing didn't hurt so much anymore. . for once in a very long time I felt free . . .and it was the most joyous and most lonely feeling I've ever felt

Our journey to wherever was long and cold and wet. . . the sea seemed to stretch out forever where the horizon blend with the sky. Not a Pokemon but Kyogre and that Aqua Zestys were around us. Not a word was spoken between us but I highly doubt she had anything to say even if I wanted her too.

For what felt like hours of us being surrounded by nothing but vast ocean currents, we finally approached onto a small Island. Nothing big enough for it to host even the tiniest of trees but large enough to contain a small field of grass.

As we stepped off Kyogre, Aqua Zesty guided me to a small rock formation resembling old ruined stairs until we reacched the base of the Island. . . it was there that my eyes laid on a tiny pillar in the islands northern edge . . I was instructed to stay in my place as Aqua Zesty approached the pillar not before shouting allowed to the sky above us. . .

[moyazaika]

will you appear again before Christmas?🥲

YES HI!!!! WOWEE sorry for being away longer than i intended! estranged family member showed up on my front door after 18 yeARS of no contact?!?!? went to bali and lost my pasSPORT?!?!?! failed my driver's TEST!?!?!?!

#life

[phantom-overdose]

((If anyone ever wants to write with a scruffy, kind of (unintentionally) goofy, sweet but still totally animalistic, former prisoner, werewolf-esque, character (complete with wolf tail) who has read a bunch of self-help books and who is super committed once he falls in love, and who also just so happens to be from a post-grand-fairytales fairytale realm full of magic and chaos and all that good stuff... just, ya know, let me know <3))

[loverboybrightsideghost]

i really do love practicing 🎻

[joonboree]

Dublin Canvas Two Electric Boogaloo

I got to paint another traffic light box for Dublin Canvas this year. My painting is titled "The Red Socks".

It's based on an Irish Fairy Tale that goes like this:

'There is a farmer who finds a leprechaun. He catches him and says he'll let him go if he shows him where his pot of gold is. The leprechaun shows him a field of hedgerows, points one out and says the gold is underneath. The farmer ties one of his red socks to it and goes to get a shovel. When he comes back all the hedges have red socks on them.'

Here's a full rotation of the box

[buggbuzz]

taking advantage of my few days off to start really filling in my basic genetics notes since i'm taking a genetics class in the fall

[noxtivagus]

i'm rlly happy i started listening to the 1975

[bowie-amia1]

Oh what now is the adventure we'll go on Dr. Who? Where I will suffer fatigue at tales conclusion...

[sealeneee]

sighs

[fionnaskyborn]

I wonder if there is like a quota for how many fuckups a man can make in life. I don't know where I was going with this. I guess I just wish every step I made wasn't one in the wrong direction, or that I could at least backpedal out of bad decisions without any fatal consequences like damaging someone else. Life sucks.

[claire-starsword]

Bloodline of the Sacred Dragons - Chapter 2-7

[warning for violence and dismemberment on this one. yes you read that right. as opposed to me who did not pay attention to this on my first read. lol.]

The group emerged back into the fields, after safely crossing the mountains. They hurried on their journey, heading towards the Pao Plains.

By Krin and Tyrin's calculations, they should be a day ahead of the monsters. If they could get the mercenaries at Pao and come back, they would be able to ambush the enemies at the mountain path that led to the plains. The devils wouldn't be able to escape a trap in such a narrow pathway.

In the forest, Karin replaced Randolf as the lead. Tyrin gave the general directions by her side, and she decided the exact path to traverse according to the condition of the plants and other forest signs. Bleu was speechless on how observant she was, not letting the slightest detail pass unnoticed.

Bleu struggled the most with the thick cluster of trees. Unlike Camallia and Karna, he didn't have the power to heal everyone's exhaustion either. He grew frustrated with himself. Once they got to a wider place or a road he'd be able to stretch out his wings. He did his best to put up with it.

Once the sun had gone down, the group had finally come out the end of the forest, reaching the road between Bustoke and the Pao Plains.

And there, their calculations failed them.

They ran right into the monster squad that had stolen the Manual. A sudden encounter, one could say.

"They shouldn't be here by our calculations, so why…" Krin complained about the unexpected turn of events, as she stared at the twenty or so monsters that had appeared in front of them.

The devils were just as shocked as them.

"Impossible! Why is there a Sacred Dragon here?"

One of the monsters, accompanying the squad of harpies and armed lizardmen, stared wide-eyed at Bleu, with empty eyes devoid of light. Those eyes caught sight of Camallia by his side. The devil then understood everything.

"So you survived. And you guided them here. It's always you, always… Fine, if you'll be this much of a hindrance, then I, Ziduur, will end you just like those pursuing mages."

The monster's fangs showed over the corner of his lips, and his two horns, atop his head like a moth's antennas, swung backwards in a menacing stance. Deep crimson hair ran from the nape of his neck to his back like a mane, bristling. As if answering to that, the lizardmen raised their slimy triangular heads, their bifurcated tongues flickering through their lips. The harpies let out ear-piercing shrieks.

"If you want this, come and take it."

Ziduur held a box made of ebony. It was full of intricate inlay decorations with a foreign feel.

"Sir Bleu, there's no doubt, the Manual is in there!"

With Tyrin's shout, the battle began.

"Randolf, Tyrin, take care of the girls!"

While shouting, Bleu bolted towards Ziduur, as if drawn to the Manual in his hands. Cerberus followed behind him.

"Wait, don't just rush in, it won't go well if we fight separated," Randolf hastily stopped Camallia, who wanted to jump ahead as well.

"Bleu, come back right now! Bleu!"

Karin's voice did not reach Bleu, and he began to fight the harpies in midair.

All his pent up feelings were unleashed at once. And at the same time, he had confidence in being the one who always broke through the enemy lines. With that amount of enemies, he believed he could strike the commander at once and end the battle with that. There was no reason to eliminate them all. Once he retrieved the Manual, he could just disperse the rest of the enemies. The shorter the battle, the less likely it would be for Karin and the others to get hurt. And by defeating all the monsters himself, he could prove his power to them. Maybe then the girls would stay behind without a fuss, Bleu thought.

However, his reckless advance did not go as he expected.

Superior to him in speed and number, the harpies put up a tough fight against him. Wanting to rush to Ziduur straight away, he had become isolated from his allies.

Randolf and Camallia shielded the others, facing the incoming lizardmen head on.

"Bleu, I'll burn down these enemies, get out of the way!"

Krin began chanting a Blaze spell, but Karin stopped her. If she cast the flames in a wide area, Bleu would certainly get caught in them.

"Krin, give up and target a single enemy," Karin ordered, while shooting down an enemy away from Bleu with perfect accuracy. Their lack of coordination was apparent. Karin bit down her anger at Bleu's stupid actions.

"I won't show mercy to any who interfere. Join the hateful corpses that sleep under this earth."

Ziduur took out a piece of a crimson jewel, and held it tightly within his left hand, as if squeezing it. Beams of light came through between his fingers.

"That light!" Camallia shouted, alerting everyone.

Ziduur punched the ground. Thin sparks of crimson lightning ran at once over the surface.

"What did he do?"

Karna watched in awe as the ground in front of her began to stir, and something jumped out from within.

"Eep!" She let out a strangled scream as she came face to face with a skeleton.

"Get down!"

Hearing that shout from behind her, Karna got down while covering her head with both arms. The end of a flail flew past her, sending the skeleton's skull flying like a football. As she pulled the weapon back, Camallia smashed its upper body as well.

In the brief moment where Karna breathed a sigh of relief, more skeletons jumped from below, one after the other. Those skeletal warriors, carrying all kinds of different weapons, were the warped forms of monsters once defeated in that land, and the travelers they once killed.

"Are we surrounded?"

Watching the growing swarm of skeletons and lizardmen around them, Randolf swung his Battle Axe once again. If the monsters attacked all at once, they certainly wouldn't manage to defend against all of them.

Karna shouted for everyone to get closer together.

"O benevolent ones who watch upon all, please hear our prayers. Gather the righteous light within our hearts, and make it into a shield of holy brilliance!!"

By her incantation, the faint shine of the supporting spell Boost enveloped the whole group from within. The monsters with no flesh nor blood were driven away by that light.

Not wasting the opportunity, Randolf and Camallia attacked. The mages covered the openings between them, Tyrin freezing the enemies to stand as shields, and Krin erecting walls of fire with her Blaze spells. They were doing their best to defend themselves, but the situation still wasn't good as they were outnumbered.

On one swing, Camallia's flail became entangled in another flail wielded by a skeleton. The resulting forces made both of them lose their grips on their weapons. Without delay, the skeleton took a short sword from the back of its shield, and charged at the now empty-handed girl. Another short sword was thrown at the skeleton as it did that. By reflex, the skeleton knocked it down with its shield. Camallia jumped at the fallen sword, grabbing it and swinging it at the skeleton's leg to cut it down. The monster fell down as it lost its balance, and Camallia stepped on its bony body from over its shield, using all of her strength to crush it.

"Thank you, Sir Randolf."

Picking up her flail, she stood back to back with Randolf, who had moved backwards. She extended a hand in his direction, trying to return his short sword that had saved her from her predicament.

"I don't mind. Keep it. Without a spare weapon, something like this might happen to you again."

Answering that, he swung his blade at another monster.

At that time, Bleu was also surrounded by even more enemies than before.

Sacred Dragons had tough bodies and powerful attacks, but were in no way invincible. Their thick hide was hard to penetrate with a blade, yet at some point he had been wounded, and it bled. While he had finished off many of the harpies, he had also hurt his wings. The injury was not severe, but it made him unable to fight the remaining harpies in the air. Having fallen to the ground, Bleu faced a concentrated assault from the group of enemies.

Sustaining minor injuries all over his body, Bleu had made a pile of corpses out of his enemies. Yet he was clearly exhausted. Taking a fierce blow to his chest, he began to cough violently.

In this terrible moment, a lizardman brandished his Large Axe. In Bleu's current condition, he couldn't dodge or spew out his lightning breath.

The monsters became agitated.

Steeling himself for the fatal blow, Bleu saw a silver blur pass through the corner of his vision. Fresh blue blood spilled by. With a deep gash on his torso, the lizardman turned around only to be cut again like a paper doll by sharp claws, this time on the chest.

"Zylo!?" Bleu exclaimed in surprise, seeing the werewolf that had showed up behind the fallen lizardman.

"It's been a long time, Bleu."

Zylo's eyes had the glint of a wild beast hidden within, and he narrowed them in recognition for an instant.

Taking that as an opening, the harpies attacked from the sky.

"Watch out!"

Faster than Bleu's cry, Zylo jumped to the air. He spun next to harpy like a gear, hitting it with a somersault, and knocking it down hard to the ground. The blood from the harpy's torn neck ran in lines across her dead body.

"Before worrying for others, worry about yourself. Honestly, what a pathetic fight you put up. Have you forgotten your past experience? I'll show you how it is to fight as a group. Watch and learn."

Zylo howled.

The lizardmen and harpies flinched at the incoming chants of beast hunters. From its direction came the rushing sound of rain. A merciless rain of arrows…

Once the synchronized barrage of arrows ended, Zylo had also disappeared. Too fast for Bleu's eyes to keep up, he ran between the disoriented enemies, cutting them down as he passed them by. One by one they fell to the ground.

Having broken through the enemies surrounding them, Zylo reached Karin's group.

"It's Zylo, the king of Bustoke."

Krin calmed down the others, who were on guard, unsure if he was a new enemy.

"We'll regroup with Bleu. Follow me without delay," Zylo ordered, and turned away from them without waiting for an answer. He spoke as if certain that they'd obey. Not forceful. Just showing unwavering confidence.

"Diane!!" He shouted. In answer, a squad of archers appeared from the forest shadows, led by an elf girl. Their bowstrings rang as they once again released their arrows in unison.

Diane's archers concentrated their assault on the skeletons. The ropes tied in their arrows perfectly wrapped around their enemies. The skeletons hit by them fell down and tumbled through the ground. It seemed as if they knew what enemies they'd be facing, which made Krin impressed, but also a bit suspicious.

"Let's go!"

Zylo dashed away, heading towards Bleu, who had recovered some energy and continued to fight on his own. The others ran behind him as fast as they could.

"Karna, Camallia, heal Bleu, quickly!"

As Zylo and Randolf took the surrounding enemies down, Karin immediately asked the priests to tend to Bleu. While the archers of Bustoke kept lending them support, Camallia healed everyone who had been injured with Aura, the high level healing spell.

"Thank you, Camallia. You too, Karin…" Bleu thanked the girls.

"There's no time to waste," Zylo urged Bleu. "Let's retrieve the Manual at once with this."

Led by the wolf king, the group split apart the confused enemies. Separated from each other, they had no time to recover, and were shot down by Diane's squad.

"Now. Sir Bleu, the Manual!" Tyrin shouted.

Spreading his healed wings, Bleu flew over the skeletons. The monsters were knocked down by the wings and the gust of wind.

Ziduur held up the ruby in his hand. His body was enveloped in red light.

"Like I'll let you teleport!"

The monster had jumped away, but Bleu sliced him with his claws.

Ziduur's arm was torn and sent flying, tracing an arc in midair, weighted down by the ebony box it carried.

Bleu had his attention drawn to the Manual for a moment. Ziduur didn't miss that, casting a Blaze spell in that time. Bleu crossed his arms in front of him as the flames burst in front of him.

"Bleu!!"

Karin and Camallia left the few remaining monsters to Zylo, and ran to the dragon.

He looked down bitterly at the space Ziduur had teleported away from. It shimmered like hot air, proving that a devil stood there just a moment before.

He picked up the box with the Manual, and Camallia saw that both his arms were bleeding.

"Are you wounded?" she asked, walking to him.

"It's no big deal. Just scratches."

"Even a small injury cannot be left alone."

While he insisted that he was fine, Camallia softly kissed his wounds.

Bleu suddenly felt eyes on him, and tried to pull away from her.

"Please stay still."

Camallia's warm lips moved over his skin as she said the words. Her hot tongue traced over his wound, licking off the blood. Her throat made a glugging noise as she drank it. Her lips continued to move over it, trembling with her incomprehensible chants and sighs.

She let go after a while, and no trace of the wound was left.

"Bleu, the king of Bustoke is calling."

Karin only said that before turning her back and running away.

To next part>

Translation notes:

"Zidur" is apparently a word of a power to summon one of the creatures in the Necronomicon by Simon. I know nothing of that book other than a cursory look so I can't talk much about it, but do you know how hilarious it is to google a Shining Force thing and come up with a pdf full of demon rituals and absolutely no other results? Unparalled experience. Also, the character's name does have a longer "u" sound so I reflected that in my translation as well.

I don't recall Ziduur being explicitly referred to as a man, but his speech manners are pretty rough and he'll eventually be using the rough and masc "ore" pronoun, so unlike Otrant I just made the call to use he/him pronouns for him.

Zylo's species in the original game is given as "wolfling". His base class however is "werewolf", so nothing wrong here.

Up to this point I had been calling the dog "Cerberos" because that's closer to the japanese reading and I didn't think to look it up, but I was recently reminded that the games use "Cerberus" instead. I'd rather stick close to the official translations when it doesn't matter so I've updated past posts and will be using the game romanization from here on.

[insipid-drivel]

Horses: Since There Seems To Be A Knowledge Gap

I'm going to go ahead and preface this with: I comment pretty regularly on clips and photos featuring horses and horseback riding, often answering questions or providing explanations for how or why certain things are done. I was a stable hand and barrel racer growing up, and during my 11 year tenure on tumblr, Professional Horse Commentary is a very niche, yet very necessary, subject that needs filling. Here are some of the literary and creative gaps I've noticed in well meaning (and very good!) creators trying to portray horses and riding realistically that... well, most of you don't seem to even be aware of, because you wouldn't know unless you worked with horses directly!

Some Of The Most Common Horse + Riding Mistakes I See:

-Anybody can ride any horse if you hold on tight enough/have ridden once before.

Nope. No, no, no, no, aaaaaaaand, no. Horseback riding has, historically, been treated as a life skill taught from surprisingly young ages. It wasn't unusual in the pre-vehicular eras to start teaching children as young as 4 to begin to ride, because horses don't come with airbags, and every horse is different. For most adults, it can take months or years of regular lessons to learn to ride well in the saddle, and that's just riding; not working or practicing a sport.

Furthermore, horses often reject riders they don't know. Unless a horse has been trained like a teaching horse, which is taught to tolerate riders of all skill and experience levels, it will take extreme issue with having some random person try to climb on their back. Royalty, nobility, and the knighted classes are commonly associated with the "having a favorite special horse" trope, because it's true! Just like you can have a particularly special bond with a pet or service animal that verges on parental, the same can apply with horses. Happy horses love their owners/riders, and will straight-up do their best to murder anyone that tries to ride them without permission.

-Horses are stupid/have no personality.

There isn't a more dangerous assumption to make than assuming a horse is stupid. Every horse has a unique personality, with traits that can be consistent between breeds (again, like cat and dog breeds often have distinct behavior traits associated with them), but those traits manifest differently from animal to animal.

My mother had an Arabian horse, Zipper, that hated being kicked as a signal to gallop. One day, her mom and stepdad had a particularly unpleasant visitor; an older gentleman that insisted on riding Zipper, but refused to listen to my mother's warnings never to kick him. "Kicking" constitutes hitting the horse's side(s) with your heels, whether you have spurs on or not. Most horses only need a gentle squeeze to know what you want them to do.

Anyway, Zipper made eye-contact with my mom, asking for permission. He understood what she meant when she nodded at him. He proceeded to give this asshole of a rider road rash on the side of the paddock fence and sent him to the emergency room. He wouldn't have done it if he didn't have the permission from the rider he respected, and was intelligent enough to ask, "mind if I teach this guy a lesson?" with his eyes, and understand, "Go for it, buddy," from my mom in return.

-Riding bareback is possible to do if you hold onto the horse's mane really tight.

Riding a horse bareback (with no saddle, stirrups, or traditional harness around the horse's head) is unbelievably difficult to learn, particularly have testicles and value keeping them. Even professional riders and equestrians find ourselves relying on tack (the stuff you put on a horse to ride it) to stay stable on our horses, even if we've been riding that particular horse for years and have a very positive, trusting relationship.

Horses sweat like people do. The more they run, the more their hair saturates with sweat and makes staying seated on them slippery. Hell, an overworked horse can sweat so heavily that the saddle slips off its back. It's also essential to brush and bathe a horse before it's ridden in order to keep it healthier, so their hair is often quite slick from either being very clean or very damp. In order to ride like that, you have to develop the ability to synchronize your entire body's rhythm's with the rhythm of the horse's body beneath you, and quite literally move as one. Without stirrups, most people can't do it, and some people can never master bareback riding no matter how many years they spend trying to learn.

-You can be distracted and make casual conversation while a horse is standing untethered in the middle of a barn or field.

At every barn I've ever worked at, it's been standard practice with every single horse, regardless of age or temperament, to secure their heads while they're being tacked up or tacked down. The secures for doing this are simple ropes with clips that are designed to attach to the horse's halter (the headwear for a horse that isn't being ridden; they have no bit that goes in the horse's mouth, and no reins for a rider to hold) on metal O rings on either side of the horse's head. This is not distressing to the horse, because we give them plenty of slack to turn their heads and look around comfortably.

The problem with trying to tack up an unrestrained horse while chatting with fellow stable hands or riders is that horses know when you're distracted! And they often try to get away with stuff when they know you're not looking! In a barn, a horse often knows where the food is stored, and will often try to tiptoe off to sneak into the feed room.

Horses that get into the feed room are often at a high risk of dying. While extremely intelligent, they don't have the ability to throw up, and they don't have the ability to tell that their stomach is full and should stop eating. Allowing a horse into a feed/grain room WILL allow it to eat itself to death.

Other common woes stable hands and riders deal with when trying to handle a horse with an unrestrained head is getting bitten! Horses express affection between members of their own herd, and those they consider friends and family, through nibbling and surprisingly rough biting. It's not called "horseplay" for nothing, because during my years working with horses out in the pasture, it wasn't uncommon at all for me to find individuals with bloody bite marks on their withers (that high part on the middle of the back of their shoulders most people instinctively reach for when they try to get up), and on their backsides. I've been love-bitten by horses before, and while flattering, they hurt like hell on fleshy human skin.

So, for the safety of the horse, and everybody else, always make a show of somehow controlling the animal's head when hands-on and on the ground with them.

-Big Horse = War Horse

Startlingly, the opposite is usually the case! Draft and carriage horses, like Percherons and Friesians, were never meant to be used in warfare. Draft horses are usually bred to be extremely even-tempered, hard to spook, and trustworthy around small children and animals. Historically, they're the tractors of the farm if you could afford to upgrade from oxen, and were never built to be fast or agile in a battlefield situation.

More importantly, just because a horse is imposing and huge doesn't make it a good candidate for carrying heavy weights. A real thing that I had to be part of enforcing when I worked at a teaching ranch was a weight limit. Yeah, it felt shitty to tell people they couldn't ride because we didn't have any horses strong enough to carry them due to their weight, but it's a matter of the animal's safety. A big/tall/chonky horse is more likely to be built to pull heavy loads, but not carry them flat on their spines. Horses' muscular power is predominantly in their ability to run and pull things, and too heavy a rider can literally break a horse's spine and force us to euthanize it.

Some of the best war horses out there are from the "hot blood" family. Hot blooded horses are often from dry, hot, arid climates, are very small and slight (such as Arabian horses), and are notoriously fickle and flighty. They're also a lot more likely to paw/bite/kick when spooked, and have even sometimes been historically trained to fight alongside their rider if their rider is dismounted in combat; kicking and rearing to keep other soldiers at a distance.

-Any horse can be ridden if it likes you enough.

Just like it can take a lifetime to learn to ride easily, it can take a lifetime of training for a horse to comfortably take to being ridden or taking part in a job, like pulling a carriage. Much like service animals, horses are typically trained from extremely young ages to be reared into the job that's given to them, and an adult horse with no experience carrying a rider is going to be just as scared as a rider who's never actually ridden a horse.

Just as well, the process of tacking up a horse isn't always the most comfortable experience for the horse. To keep the saddle centered on the horse's back when moving at rough or fast paces, it's essential to tighten the belly strap (cinch) of the saddle as tightly as possible around the horse's belly. For the horse, it's like wearing a tight corset, chafes, and even leaves indents in their skin afterward that they love having rinsed with water and scratched. Some horses will learn to inflate their bellies while you're tightening the cinch so you can't get it as tight as it needs to be, and then exhale when they think you're done tightening it.

When you're working with a horse wearing a bridle, especially one with a bit, it can be a shocking sensory experience to a horse that's never used a bit before. While they lack a set of teeth naturally, so the bit doesn't actually hurt them, imagine having a metal rod shoved in your mouth horizontally! Unless you understand why it's important for the person you care about not dying, you'd be pretty pissed about having to keep it in there!

-Horseback riding isn't exercise.

If you're not using every muscle in your body to ride with, you're not doing it right.

Riding requires every ounce of muscle control you have in your entire body - although this doesn't mean it wasn't realistic for people with fat bodies to stay their weight while also being avid riders; it doesn't mean the muscles aren't there. To stay on the horse, you need to learn how it feels when it moves at different gaits (walk, trot, canter, gallop), how to instruct it to switch leads (dominant legs; essential for precise turning and ease of communication between you and the horse), and not falling off. While good riders look like they're barely moving at all, that's only because they're good riders. They know how to move so seamlessly with the horse, feeling their movements like their own, that they can compensate with their legs and waists to not bounce out of the saddle altogether or slide off to one side. I guarantee if you ride a horse longer than 30 minutes for the first time, your legs alone will barely work and feel like rubber.

-Horses aren't affectionate.

Horses are extraordinarily affectionate toward the right people. As prey animals, they're usually wary of people they don't know, or have only recently met. They also - again, like service animals - have a "work mode" and a "casual mode" depending upon what they're doing at the time. Horses will give kisses like puppies, wiggle their upper lips on your hair/arms to groom you, lean into neck-hugs, and even cuddle in their pasture or stall if it's time to nap and you join them by leaning against their sides. If they see you coming up from afar and are excited to see you, they'll whinny and squeal while galloping to meet you at the gate. They'll deliberately swat you with their tails to tease you, and will often follow you around the pasture if they're allowed to regardless of what you're up to.

-Riding crops are cruel.

Only cruel people use riding crops to hurt their horses. Spurs? I personally object to, because any horse that knows you well doesn't need something sharp jabbing them in the side for emphasis when you're trying to tell them where you want them to go. Crops? Are genuinely harmless tools used for signalling a horse.

I mean, think about it. Why would crops be inherently cruel instruments if you need to trust a horse not to be afraid of you and throw you off when you're riding it?

Crops are best used just to lightly tap on the left or right flank of the horse, and aren't universally used with all forms of riding. You'll mainly see crops used with English riding, and they're just tools for communicating with the horse without needing to speak.

-There's only one way to ride a horse.

Not. At. All. At most teaching ranches, you'll get two options: Western, or English, because they tend to be the most popular for shows and also the most common to find equipment for. English riding uses a thinner, smaller saddle, narrower stirrups, and much thinner bridles. I, personally, didn't like English style riding because I never felt very stable in such a thin saddle with such small stirrups, and didn't start learning until my mid teens. English style riding tends to focus more on your posture and deportment in the saddle, and your ability to show off your stability and apparent immovability on the horse. It was generally just a bit too stiff and formal for me.

Western style riding utilizes heavier bridles, bigger saddles (with the iconic horn on the front), and broader stirrups. Like its name may suggest, Western riding is more about figuring out how to be steady in the saddle while going fast and being mobile with your upper body. Western style riding is generally the style preferred for working-type shows, such as horseback archery, gunning, barrel racing, and even rodeo riding.

-Wealthy horse owners have no relationship with their horses.

This is loosely untrue, but I've seen cases where it is. Basically, horses need to feel like they're working for someone that matters to them in order to behave well with a rider and not get impatient or bored. While it's common for people to board horses at off-property ranches (boarding ranches) for cost and space purposes, it's been historically the truth that having help is usually necessary with horses at some point. What matters is who spends the most time with the animal treating it like a living being, rather than a mode of transport or a tool. There's no harm in stable hands handling the daily upkeep; hay bales and water buckets are heavy, and we're there to profit off the labor you don't want or have the time to do. You get up early to go to work; we get up early to look after your horses. Good owners/boarders visit often and spend as much of their spare time as they can with spending quality work and playtime with their horses. Otherwise, the horses look to the stable hands for emotional support and care.

So, maybe you're writing a knight that doesn't really care much for looking after his horse, but his squire is really dedicated to keeping up with it? There's a better chance of the horse having a more affectionate relationship with the squire thanks to the time the squire spends on looking after it, while the horse is more likely to tolerate the knight that owns it as being a source of discipline if it misbehaves. That doesn't mean the knight is its favorite person. When it comes to horses, their love must be earned, and you can only earn it by spending time with them hands-on.

-Horses can graze anywhere without concern.

This is a mistake that results in a lot of premature deaths! A big part of the cost of owning a horse - even before you buy one - is having the property that will be its pasture assessed for poisonous plants, and having those plants removed from being within the animal's reach. This is an essential part of farm upkeep every year, because horses really can't tell what's toxic and what isn't. One of the reasons it's essential to secure a horse when you aren't riding it is to ensure it only has a very limited range to graze on, and it's your responsibility as the owner/rider to know how to identify dangerous plants and keep your horses away from them.

There's probably more. AMA in my askbox if you have any questions, but that's all for now. Happy writing.

[reki-of-the-valley]

I don't do this often, and I don't plan on often doing this, but I've been thinking about it today so here's a few reflections I will share with yall about writing and creation. Just like a little "talking without knowing if I truly make sense" moment for me. My little Older Sibling moment for any little creative bug out there who's willing to listen to me for just a moment

I'm pretty sure the bulk of y'all know I've been writing and creating stories since before I was even conscious of my existence. Like, to the point where my parents would get fed up with having to watching my little stage plays that I'd put on with my stuffed animals and still remind me of how annoying I was to this day (long story short of that is picture a 4-5 year old putting on a 45 minute production that came with scribbled "instructions" only I could understand. And no, my parents were not allowed to leave until I was done, otherwise I cried.) But that means I've been here for a hot minute. I've been on this wild rollercoaster for YEARS. Which means I picked up a few things, noticed a few little things about it. And a lot of you also know that I have a whole ass degree in literature, which means I've also read a few things, studied styles and the effect of those styles on the reader. And like yeah, I'm not the most well read person out there, I know so many people who have read so much more than me, but this isn't a competition. I just know I've read enough for me to be able to reflect on my own writing. Which brings me to the writer that stands (sits?) here today

Y'all creating is a fucking bitch. It's a painful process, holy shit. Like it's emotionally draining, physically and mentally demanding, it's a fucking bitch. But I also wouldn't trade my ability to create stories for anything in this world. It's a bitch, but it's my bitch. And it's not always a bitch. Like it's never easy per se, but there are things that work better than others. There are some stories that take less time to be put onto a page than others, maybe because they're simpler or I have more of a vision, but they still take up time and energy. Everything takes energy, energy I don't always have, but I'm always willing to try to find. Which might be why I burnt out for two whole years, but that's besides the point. What I'm trying to say is that even if it's hard, creation is rewarding and I love it. And there's no easy path when it comes to creation. It's uncertain, rocky terrain, that's for sure. But it's rewarding.

It's rewarding, but it doesn't mean I like everything I write. And sometimes it's right when I write it, I hate it, but whatever, I still created it so that's worth something? And then maybe I come to love it. And maybe I like something, but then revisit it and hate it. I don't like everything I've made, I know, it's a shocker. And yet, I'm still proud of what I've created. Because it comes from me, from the energy I was able to scrape by. So here's my first thing I want people to remember: Even if you don't love it, even if you don't even like it, you can and should still be proud of what you've made. It wouldn't exist if it weren't for your efforts, no matter how great or little those efforts were.

Another thing is that you will improve. I know we're usually our own harshest judges, I know it's so easy to look at what we've created and go "someone would have done a better job than me" but fuck that shit. No one else can do it the way you did. No one can do your vision justice if you don't do it yourself. Because you're the only person who knows the exact colors you want there, the exact word that will tie it all together. And sometimes it's difficult to express that little thing you're trying to express, but trust yourself. Trust that you know what you're doing, even when you don't have the slightest clue. It'll work out, my dear. I promise it will. And if it doesn't, walk away and try again later. That might be what you need. Or maybe you need to ask for help. You can do that too.

Asking for help isn't proof of your failure. You're not a failure because you can't do a thing all on your own. And I know it's scary to ask for help, or admit that you can't pull everything out of your head, know every secret of the universe, but you can do it. And look, I've been at this writing and creating thing for like 20 years. And I've been at this writing "real stories" (which isn't a real thing, btw. Everything is a real story, but what I mean here is not being 8 years old and writing the many adventures I thought my pets went on while I was at school) for over 10 years. (because yes, I was that teenager that wasn't paying attention in class because I was too busy writing stories and fanfiction in my notebooks. Math? No thanks, I have to write this story about my favorite characters going on adventures and learning about the power of friendship!) I've gone through so much stuff, tried out so much stuff, that I think I can talk about. And I'm still not perfect. I still don't have beta readers for my fics. I'm the only person who edits my work because I'm still so scared of criticism. I've been writing for over 10 years, sharing my stories for just as long, and I'm still terrified of asking for help. But there have been slow steps towards asking for help, little baby steps, and I know they've helped me become a better writer.

Asking for help can come in many forms. This is going to sound stupid, but my first step towards asking for help was getting myself a dictionary. And you might be thinking "Lils, what the fuck does that mean?" and it simply means that I was so scared of correcting my writing, of having any sort of criticism, that I didn't even consult a dictionary. Because the dictionary had the ability to tell me that the word I was using wasn't correct. And I had to be correct. I had to be the best. (Spoiler alert, I was not the best and I still am not, though I do believe I am a lot better than I used to be.) Now, even if I don't have anyone but myself to edit, I at least have someone who can freely point out my typos or when a sentence doesn't make sense. There's no correction on the content itself, I can't bring myself to accept that directed criticism quite yet, but it's a step closer towards that. Learning to ask for help is a slow process, but it's a rewarding, I promise.

Now back to the improvement thing. I've been doing this for so long that I don't remember a life without writing. Writing has been a constant in my life, but I wasn't always "good" at it. If I reread the things I wrote at 13, I would want to burn those pages. Trust me, that writing style was atrocious. Just reading things I wrote maybe 2 years ago, things I know I was so proud because it was the best I'd ever written, I now reread them with almost an air of disgust. Because I'm always improving. Practice makes you better. And this goes for everything. It sucks to hear it over and over again, but fuck, it's so true. If you don't practice, you'll never improve. Because how are you supposed to get better if you never did it in the first place. So forget about that lousy "but what if it sucks?" voice in your head and just go for it. Because maybe it will suck. Or maybe it'll be amazing. And maybe it'll be amazing the moment you finish it, and then you'll revisit it years from now and go "oh shit, that sucked man." But you know what that means? It means you got better. And even if you look back at it and go "well that looks terrible," you can still be proud of it. You can be proud of that moment, because you created a thing no one else was able to make. You did that. All on your own. Like the amazing person you are.

Here's another fun fact about myself: I like telling people I don't know how to read. "But Lils, you have a whole ass degree in reading." You're correct. And you'd also be correct to day that I do know how to read, how to analyze, and all that good shit. So I do actually know how to read. But the reason I stuck to that whole "I don't know how to read" thing is because reading kinda makes me feel like shit. Or at least, it did. It sometimes still does. Because other authors write these masterpieces and I feel like I can never write something that beautiful. I'll never be as good as some of these writers. I'll never come up with a line that makes you close the book and stare at your ceiling for a solid minute, contemplating your life. I'll never write something that will appear in a "top 100 most beautiful quotes from books" list. But also, maybe I am just as good a writer as those authors.

I used to be so afraid to pick up a book and read because I would compare myself to someone who's had years and years of practice. Like, imagine being 14 and thinking you're a shit writer because your writing isn't as gorgeous as, I don't know, let's say Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. I guess I'll never be able to have a character as witty as Elizabeth or a man as lovable as grumpy Darcy, so why even try writing? But I love writing, so instead I swore off reading. I didn't read a book unless I had a book report to do on it until I was... fuck, 20? I think the last book I had read voluntarily during my teenage years was The Fault in Our Stars. All because it was too scary to have the ability to compare myself to literal adults who spent their life writing. So I told myself that I would become an amazing writer without ever reading, even if the number one advice all authors gave was "read books." It's not the best advice I'd give anyone who wants to improve their writing, but it is good to read. It helps you learn how words work. But also, there's so much bad stuff (in my opinion, I've become incredibly picky in my reading) that some books are just not what you should be using to improve your own writing. I'd say they're more like bad teachers for people trying to learn how to write, but that might just be my opinion. Not that that's the point of this.

My point here is that you're not born an expert. And I hate failure as much as the next person, and if you know me, maybe I hate failure even more than everyone on this planet combined, but you have to try something to get better at it. You have to try the colors on your page, you have to make them clash to learn how to make them beautiful together. You have to be 17 writing "But when a man is in love, you can't a snap him out of it." to be 22 writing "All she knows is that Claude is beautiful; all she knows is that maybe she too is beautiful." You have to be 13 starting a story with "HEY! My name is Emma Oak, the grand-daughter of Professor Oak!" to be 22, writing broken love letters between lovers who just never had a chance. You have to be 19 and be proud of "Anyways, it was difficult to continue ignoring him when he was kneeling in front of her, his chocolate brown locked onto her face." to be almost 23, knowing the best you can write right now is "Byleth’s damp cheek rested against Claude’s hand, her beautiful green eyes falling shut as he wiped her tears away." You have to be 21 writing "For Reki, he was ready to do anything. For Reki, he was even willing to put his heart on the line. For Reki, maybe he would be brave enough to confess all the feelings that had been overwhelming him." to be 22 writing "For Byleth, he was ready to be on his knees. For Byleth, he was ready to bring the heavens down to her. For Byleth, he was ready to go mad. For Byleth, he was ready for anything. For Byleth, he was ready to end this war." And you might not notice the difference between some of these lines, but to me, they're jarring. Maybe you don't see the difference a year has made on my writing, but I can see it. I can see my own improvement.

So yeah, my conclusion here is that no one is born knowing all the secrets about a good creation. At 13, I was too afraid of people better than me, so I just pretended they didn't exist. I refused to read books. But now, at 22, I know there are writers who are better than me, and I admire their talent. But I also know that my writing, my unprofessional, unedited, unpeer-reviewed work can change people at their core. I'm not out here writing The Song of Achilles, writing "He is half of my soul, as the poets say," but I am here writing "How could he help the pounding in his chest as fair green eyes stared at him, green eyes that were just off from his entire world?" I know I have the ability to write lines that will stick with my readers, but that's only because I was daring enough to put myself out there. It's only because I was daring enough to suck ass at first. It's only because I was daring enough to think I was the shit, that my writing was groundbreaking even if it was corny and terrible. If I hadn't written those silly little stories filled with inconsistencies, I wouldn't be where I am now. And I know in a year, in two years, in ten years, I'll look back at what I'm currently writing, and I'm going to laugh because my writing will have gotten better by then. But for now, this is the best I can do, and I'm proud of it. I'm proud of how far I've come. Any artist should be proud of how far they've gotten.

So keep creating your art. Keep writing, keep painting, keep drawing, keep dancing, keep creating. I promise, you're amazing at what you do, and you'll only get better as time goes on. Improvement is a bitch to spot, but you'll see it. And be proud of what you've created. Because only you can create that. It's yours. It's all yours, and you should be so fucking proud of that.