#this is MY incomprehensible hellscape!

[chinchillinator]

I posted 13,298 times in 2022

106 posts created (1%)

13,192 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@spacegirlsgang

@weird-is-all-ive-got

@clegerncodeofconduct

@raedear

@paradisetemporarilymisplaced

I tagged 1,854 of my posts in 2022

#battle buddies - 216 posts

#goncharov - 103 posts

#unreality - 94 posts

#babys watching trust (again) - 67 posts

#black sails - 52 posts

#going batty - 42 posts

#tma - 33 posts

#is that your sword or are you just happy to see me? - 32 posts

#trash person thinking trash thoughts - 32 posts

#the greatest ghost hunters who ever lived - 31 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#so now he and joe have to share the babiest bed and he realizes this and has to escape immediately so he doesnt take it back bc thats rude

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

It’s not just fiction. It’s not curating your fandom space. It’s not scrolling past things you don’t want to read. Nothing we do exists in a vacuum, and that includes fandom engagement.

That old adage about writers telling the readers more about themselves than their characters really has been speaking to me of late. It’s true, I’ve been reminded that it’s true many times in rereading my own work and in looking back at what I’ve written recently. I cannot craft a story that is devoid of myself. Simply because every word I write is colored by my own world views. I think it’s very strange if any writer were to claim to be the exception to this.

Based on who I’ve had the joy of interacting with online because of my writing, I know that most of the people reading my work and engaging with it share at least some of my views. Seeing as what I’ve written is impossible to divorce from those views, they must come through in what people read. So if someone enjoys what I’ve written, it must be because they agree with my stance on certain things and have a similar perspective regarding certain things. I know this is definitely true of the things I’ve read, as well. Which is to say, if I do find something in a piece of work that feels at odds with my views and perspective, I will click out and move on. As I imagine many others will if they’re in a similar situation. This leaves me with a community of fellow readers that share my views and perspectives and are happy to have those ideas reinforced and reiterated in what they read. It’s a lovely place to be as both a writer and a reader.

Where this created community becomes insidious is when the views and perspectives being reinforced and reiterated are deeply racist, antisemitic, homophobic, misogynistic, or discriminatory in any other way. When there is a group of people reading works that are written by others to include these discriminatory tropes. When there is a writer allowing their discriminatory views to color their writing and when their views are harmful to the perception of real life minorities. This echo chamber that’s been created is only perpetuating deeply problematic stereotypes that are both symptoms of and root causes of real life discrimination.

It’s not just fiction. It’s ideas and views and perspectives you’re carrying throughout your day to day life. And it’s not a question of whether or not you’ll act on those things, because you already are. You’re reading and supporting things that echo those harmful views. You’re writing things that perpetuate those harmful views. You’re putting into the world further discriminatory imagery that may catch the attention of someone new and pull them into this community. Where discriminatory tropes and stereotypes are suddenly on display openly, repeated again and again until they no longer seem harmful or wrong. Until they just seem normal.

You’re not creating something in a vacuum. You’re normalizing ideas that cause real, true harm to minority groups. Ideas that have led to our rights being taken from us, our bodies being attacked, and our lives being ended. Because those of us who don’t share these ideas are already avoiding your work. We’re already curating our online spaces to see as little of it as possible. We are not the ones being constantly shown these views and accepting them as the norm.

This is not the norm. This cannot be the norm. This is why conversations about discrimination in fandoms, and in all fictional works, need to be held by those open to creating a true dialogue that can initiate change. You are allowing yourself to see racist stereotypes as “okay” because “it’s fiction.” You are allowing yourself to excuse someone who is putting out blatantly discriminatory messaging. You are allowing this to become your status quo.

The next time you see a brown person stopped at the airport security checkpoint, ask yourself if you would accept that as “okay” were you to see it written into a novel. If the answer is no, consider why you’re accepting this.

35 notes - Posted October 23, 2022

#4

Reliable sources say: the actual translation is “Not even the devil would take Primo.”

44 notes - Posted June 19, 2022

#3

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)

Relationship: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova

Characters: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Nicky | Nicolò di Genova

Additional Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Switching, Laughter During Sex, 5+1 Things, Blink And You Miss It D/S Dynamics and CNC, Canon Compliant, but like what time during canon? who’s to say, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova are in Love, (thats actually the thesis of the fic not the butt stuff)

Summary:

Nicky loves his family, he really does. But the blessed indulgences he gets to share with Joe when there’s no one else around to interrupt or bear witness, he misses those things as much as he misses his family when he’s been without them for too long. Nicky has spent several long hours deciding exactly how he would like to be taken apart when they’re finally alone. How he would like to take Joe apart.

—

Or, 5 times Nicky and Joe wanted to do butt stuff but couldn’t +1 time they finally did

Awww baby’s first pwp.

54 notes - Posted January 23, 2022

#2

Okay so I know we’ve all been looping the Goncharov theme but like major shout out to @caramiaaddio for also transcribing it because now I can like show what I’ve been rambling at my friends about for so long. Y’all haven’t had to hear me obsess over this so it’s not annoying to you yet. Maybe.

Because what I love about this theme is that it encapsulates both Goncharovs. Hear me out. Obviously this is what plays during the palace dance scene and since that’s framed so fully on Gonch himself because, duh, main character, you can say that the whole theme itself centers on Gonch. But! I actually think that the opening to the waltz is Katya’s leitmotif.

Putting it under the cut in case you’re my friends who’ve already heard me talk about this too many times.

This is what I’m talking about:

Those four bars show up with Katya more than with Gonch, like think about it. I mean, it’s literally played in a major key when she meets Sofia. Which, like, SUBTLE. But anyway, variations of it play in the background of her and Gonch eating together and with the themes surrounding her feelings of being trapped by societal norms and the expectations of a good wife, it feels like these scenes have a lot more to do with her arc. It’s also buried in the scoring that’s backing the entire boat scene AND plays out when Gonch hears about her “death”. So it makes sense that this would be her leitmotif!

MEANWHILE, what do we hear a lot during the most intense scenes of Gonch himself? This:

See the full post

116 notes - Posted November 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

has this been done yet

202 notes - Posted September 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[beeabaa-ai-compostbin]

HEWYWYY

Welcome to my blog. After the hellscape that is ai trying to replace every creative thing by scraping off stuff from artists without consent being brought to tumblr, I've decided to take matters into my own hands and make a blog with the worst and incomprehensible things as much as possible. There's no gurantee opt-out will fucking do anything so why not just have a bit of fun by messing with data training as much as possible? Maybe if enough of us come together to do as much shitposting as possible it might actually work, who knows?

Any important information to combat ai will be under

#important ai info

So anyways I'll probably be posting more with my beloved Beeabaa over here.

[takaraphoenix]

The downside of being a 90s kid who grew up watching technology and the internet grow and evolve is that you also get to see it devolve.

The way you genuinely can’t google things without quotation marks anymore... and even with them, you won’t get useful results anymore. Used to be that google actually, you know, gave you results. Things that specifically answered the questions you asked and related to the words you typed into the search bar. And logic and reason would tell you that over the past twenty years that would evolve and the results would get more specific and you’d get even better answers, but no. No, it’s all about what websites pay higher prices to be ranked higher in results so the results are even just barely related to what you typed in.

Or the stuff that comes with your computer!

I still remember when you just... got Word with your computer. You just had the official writing program with it. For free. It just went with it. Now that shit costs extra.

Mahjong. I started playing mahjong again and the mahjong that comes preinstalled on my new laptop has ads in it. The program. That is. On my laptop. Has. Ads. In. It.

That’s incomprehensible for me. That’s cursed? How am I supposed to concentrate on this game where there is constant movement in the corner of my vision? And they want me to pay 15 Euro? Fifteen Euro for fucking Mahjong just to get rid of the ad. For mahjong. A game that has since the beginning of time just been... there... on computers...

But you force your weird X Box shit and OneDrive crap onto me in a manner that I can’t even fucking deinstall and I honestly don’t understand why you won’t let me deinstall garbage I don’t want.

I’ve actually come to hate looking for things on Amazon too, because every third row of search results isn’t even related to my search results, they’re just ad placements from Amazon that seem to be stronger than any ad blocker I have on. And in the case of these, I wouldn’t even mind ads - sometimes, these internal ads do bring me to things I end up liking - but the amount of ads make it near unusable, they make the shopping experience unenjoyable and unfriendly and it just wasn’t like that back in the day.

Like, genuinely, sometimes I envy the younger people who just don’t know it differently? Who grew up in this hellscape the way it is because it makes me just so mad to see how much greed has fucked perfectly user-friendly things over.

[succubus-interactivefiction]

I liiiiied

Okay not really, but while I was taking a break from grinding levels in ESO and staring at my sparkly new keyboard and its lights I lost control and started typing and the story idea I posted earlier got it's first page. Still not planning on actually focusing on this, but since when have my plans ever worked out?

It's over, it's finally over. After twenty years of constant fighting, constant war, constant death, it's over. It's taken twenty years and millions of lives but you have finally defeated the greatest enemy your family has ever known. The cliff you find yourself sitting on overlooks what remains of the battlefield, the land for as far as the eye can see is a decimated hellscape, ash blankets the crater strewn ground, fires continue to rage, and the bodies dotting the fields and forests burn along with everything else, there will be no burials.

You watch as the remnants of your army scour the battlefield for any sign that the enemy remains, but despite your assurances that it can not possibly remain the leaders of the various forces that make up your army insist on making sure. But there is a problem, one you know is coming. That problem is you and as you hear the sound of a dozen approaching footsteps you know the time has come. With a heavy sigh you stand and turn to face the only people left in your life that you consider friends.

It is General Ganzorig who makes the first move as he takes a step closer. His formerly brilliant green scale coat is stained with blood and mud. He was the first to swear his loyalty and forces to you and is by far your oldest friend. "Ma'am, we need to talk."

"Seriously Naran, when are you going to use my name?" The faint smirk that comes to his lips would be hard to see, but you have had plenty of time to learn his quirks. "I know what this conversation is about. So go ahead and say it'' Your smile fades and you turn your attention to the rest. "I know Naran is hesitant to say what's on all your minds, but some of you have no such issue."

"You're damn right we don't" Blace, High Queen of the Amazon Tribes, has never been one to keep her thoughts a secret. "Just what the hell have you been doing this entire time? Was it always that vile magic at your fingertips?" She pauses for a moment to give you a chance to answer but you have nothing to say. "By the Gods! Fifteen years, fifteen God's damned years at your side fighting this war and you spent the entire time lying to me, to us!" She sweeps her arm out at the assembled group. They all look uncomfortable at the idea of your lies, some more than others.

"What is it, what darkness have you let into your heart?" Lillian von Winter, possibly the most devout woman you have ever met looks as though her heart is breaking as she stares into your eyes, your silence all the proof she needs that you have delved into magic that her church views as the greatest of heresies.

[[Sanguimancy, blood magic, the counterpoint to necromancy and the ability to control and manipulate the living.|pp2][$magic to "sanguimancy"]] [[Necromancy, returning the dead to a semblance of life as mindless slaves and the ability to kill with a gesture.|pp2][$magic to "necromancy"]] [[Daemonology, summoning the foes of humanity into the world to do your biding and the ability to control fire.|pp2][$magic to "daemonology"]] [[Abyssal magic, calling on forces incomprehensible to the human mind, driving enemies to madness and rending reality asunder.|pp2][$magic to "abyssal"]]

[fiercefauna]

@tiredsn0w sorry I forgot this but I was making content for Afflicted Lands, (my plaguecore universe). It’s not a lot of trouble to post these seeing that I already have all the material, I just didn’t want to overwhelm you with too much stuff at once - to anyone else earlier 2 installments are below. This is a tale about 049 and 6118, containing parts 7 through 9.

The Doctor’s inner monologue might be a bit dense and elaborate, he’s supposed to be an old soul - lol. I wanted it to sound different from the other writing.

Part 7. 

Against a blue-grey hellscape of alien modernism perfected by long practice, a Victorian fever dream stood as a rude imposition beside a sea of plate glass (or some other transparent material) filled with enough greenery to have perhaps once provided the wood used to build it. The extent of the incompetence attributed to him by these inhospitable natives was thrown in to stark clarity by the perceived need of assistance in order to locate such distinct and obvious buildings as these. 

“We think he might have just gone ahead and walked over.” Came Tasha’s voice from the phone. “He self-harms if he gets bored so let him study the samples in the vault, the ones you’ve been saying you need to get rid of. Oh- and he’s extremely recognizable so try to make sure people don’t notice him too much.” 

“Just get the hell back over here and away from the murder mongers next door! I will deal with the alien, just make it back alive!” 

Seedy made sure the cameras were running; seeing the harvest play out in their absence would later give them peace of mind. They noticed a dark shape on one of the monitors and couldn’t help but feel excited. Exotic biology was their secret obsession and this was as exotic as it came. 

“Uh, - Hi!” 

The Doctor looked up from the pamphlet and its incomprehensible extraterrestrial symbols to see that someone had finally arrived in what had seemed like a reception area. Initial conversation with the heavily tattooed and overly friendly alien Ogre was inane. Things became more interesting when botanical samples were offered, and infinitely more interesting when he was lead into a cold room full of pristinely preserved wet specimens. 

Part 8.

First appearances could deceive, this “Seedy” quickly made up for what it lacked in Terrestrial language skills by laying out subject after subject and providing tools. A pair of sketch books were soon filled completely with anatomical explorations of an alternate sphere. Oh, how the ages would envy him! But it was the last and greatest of the items in Seedy’s charge, finally uncovered by the removal and recycling of the rest, that promised a chance at redemption. 

These people didn’t know him, didn’t trust him, clearly did not consider him worthy, and why would they? What was the Asu, but a literal god, the ultimate achievement of a civilization far more ancient than any on Earth? The angel’s perfect immune system had drawn him in initially, only to reveal deeper secrets buried beneath, information that could only be sullied by its expression in images, odors, numbers or words.

As before, the Doctor would need to prove himself. Six hundred years of study could not have been for naught. He would show these people the span of his education, the overall quality of his carefully pruned mind, and the true reach of his capabilities.

“He’s been in there for days, never sits down, has never so much as sampled the homosapien rations I’ve provided, just back and fourth, back and forth. Be sure to at least offer him water now and then.” Tasha fell back on her haunches after peering through the window of the cold vault.

“You think he may take nourishment intravenously?” Offered Forby, knowing full well the size of the undertaking that was. “If he’s some kind of Two like you said, maybe there’s a port on him.” 

“How much tranquilizer do you have? We may need to knock him out to do it.” 

“I was - attempting a joke.” 

“This is serious, if he’s been at this for days with no rest and no water he - he could be dying.” 

“Maybe it’s for the best.” 

“Was that a joke?” 

“Not sure.” 

“Wait a minute what is that?”

Tasha shrugged on a warming suit and slipped into the cold vault, not wanting to interrupt whatever the Doctor was doing with the very large body on the platform, the body Seedy had told her was a kohl. The only other thing it could have been seemed far too absurd to even entertain, there was simply no way for her sibling to have gotten a hold of such a thing. 

Part 9. 

“Tell me that isn’t what it looks like.” She said to Seedy as they brought the Doctor a freshly prepared set of tools. 

“I don’t know. What does it look like?” 

Forby seemed to materialize beside her. The Two had explained that it had actually been infantry and not an assassin like the stereotype implied and that even then, it had found the work distasteful. It would have made a really good assassin though, but now it was acting as her appliance, if not her appendage. Things these last few days had just gotten - done. It disturbed her to think what having the Two at their beck and call did to the minds of Federation Aven. 

“Get the Doctor out of here, Forby, this is way over his head.”

The Doctor was swept away quickly. Tasha suspected the element of surprise and the use of that handy syringe. 

“Seedy, where did you get that?”

“The neighbors picked up some movement in the marshes and, assuming their Federation friends were up to something sneaky - kaboom. Next thing you know they got a - problem.”

“Did they tell you to get the transmitter out of the body?” 

“I don’t know anything about a transmitter, I just assumed the body might be valuable but, keeping it any longer is a bit risky so I’ve been letting our friend take a gander. He’s an alien who doesn’t know shit about local politics and he’s famous so I thought he’d be immune.”

“These things are people Seedy, I’ve spoken with them.” 

“But they’re kind of slow right? Can’t do anything but hunt and farm, don’t have any tech?”

“You are a farmer Seedy, and no, the’ve wanted access to tech for years, the Federation tells them it will blow their cover.” 

“Why are you going ‘full-disclosure’ on me now, Sib?”

“Because the Federation keeps track of these things and gets murderous when they’re killed by One’s!”

“Wouldn’t it help if these guys officially existed?” 

“The Federation thinks people will eat them.” 

“What!?” 

“Historically One’s seem to have had a cannibalism habit. Not just with the big Zeros but - the tradition of hunting Zeros seems to have held out longer.” 

“Dark shit, but it explains a lot, interesting though. I probably should have worked for the Feds. You get to know so much.” 

“It was mostly because I wanted to go to Earth that I schmoozed the government. Afterward they made me an “Earth Person” and I played along. Why do you think I get to carry tiny dogs around and call myself Tasha?”

“Cause - you’re cool?” Offered Seedy.

“We’re wasting time. We need to get the transmitter out of that body.” 

“What’s this?” Seedy picked up a long tube of clear liquid, containing a silver capsule and an attached wire. Tasha embraced her sibling, ran out of the vault and into her own laboratory where she thoroughly disinfected the probe, and changed its fluid, not knowing exactly what the Doctor had used. 

Seedy swirled the transmitter in it’s new home. “Now what?”

“We need to grab a big animal of the type that roams a lot, plant the tracker and let it go. By the time it’s discovered, the wardens will assume it was their mistake, wrong tracker - wrong species.”

Before leaving, Tasha checked on Forby and the Doctor. “Can we get anyone else? I don’t think this guy should be left with only one handler.” 

Ethics aside, drugging 049 had provided the perfect opportunity to administer first aid for severe dehydration. It was educated guesswork aided by her experience with humans and information from the neighbors.

“I’ll do my best. Is the situation as bad as you say? Sorry, I overheard.”

“Just be sure your helmet doesn’t have active spyware.” 

Though Tasha had never seen Forby’s face, a face was probably there, perhaps gaunt and pale like the famous 5a82 and hopefully not entirely replaced by a contraption of cartilage and chitin as it was for the figure on the bed. Barracks once used to hide fugitives had been refurnished for a houseguest who, till now, had seen very little use for them.

“Don’t worry, the rebels did a bunch of stuff to it when I was loaned out, I’m sure it’s quite safe, at least from the Feds.” 

Forby followed Tasha and Seedy as far as possible without loosing sight of the, hopefully sleeping, Doctor. An alarm buzzed from its side satchel. One did not ignore a call from the Asu.

[iam-back]

Mega Man 11 playthrough diary - Block Man

Oh, Block Man. Remember when you went by Brick Man? No?

There's a lot to like about Block Man. He has a good design, a good personality, dreams to follow, fun stage design, fun music, graphics are pretty...

But the problem is the delivery of his lines. They make him seem whiny and self-centered. You'll see.

Welcome to Block Man's ego-stroking museum of horrors - the ME-ramid. Where it's so long that not only the miniboss, Totemer, appears twice, but Anti-Eddie too.

And those terrible bits with the grindy-crushy thingies and the things and the stuff and you gotta shoot the blocky bits to go through? I died a bunch there.

That falling block conveyor belt Hellscape? I was down to my last life before I made it through there.

But the Blockstentation doesn't stop on the outside, oh no no. He, being the only robot with more ego than Air Man, decided to put these self-portraits everywhere. They don't even look correct - I looked at him a bunch and I can tell that he doesn't have a nose or a mouth!

Marc Swint. Marc. Pissing. Swint. You're doing a good job voicing Block Man, I'm sure, but dear God you make him sound intolerable. And if that wasn't enough, Block Man uses his Power Gear as an opportunity to turn this into a Cuphead boss.

"How mortarfying!" May God have mercy on your soul if you hear these words come out of that voice chip. Because yes, your eyes don't deceive you, he just used his Power Gear to turn into a big scary golem monster.

I like to call this last phase the "Block Man, please shut up" phase, because he starts yelling stuff like "I WON'T LOSE!! I WON'T!!!" and "NO NO NO!!!!" like he's a child who's bad at Mario Kart but doesn't want to admit it.

Even more disappointingly, I didn't even get to hear him say "Solid job getting here :)" when meeting him, "You're not the only boot ded butt on the block!" when seeing his Power Gear, or "*incomprehensible screeching*" when finally finishing him off. So all in all his stage was a 0/10.

...It was worth it to see Dr. Wily reveal his IP address for all to see though - E168-55-78. Now everyone will know his middle name is Wayne, or at least was when he was still in college, because he changed it to "Wicked" upon graduating to reflect his new dark beginnings.

...Wow. I hit the image limit on the app. Anyway, tune in tomorrow as I splurge like crazy and head to Gear Fortress afterward!

[bedlamsbard]

⭐ for the fanfic director's cut -- author's choice!

Let's talk about seven months post-Snap Grand Central Terminal + Stark Tower/MetLife Building! Seen in Horizon 14.

Natasha had been in the main concourse of Grand Central Terminal before. Even at three in the morning it had never been as empty as it was now, completely deserted except for a couple of stray pigeons that stared fearlessly at the Avengers as they passed by. Bars of thin winter sunlight slanted in through the sixty-foot arched windows on the east wall, illuminating the marble floor and striking sparks from the four-sided clock on top of the empty information booth. The departure boards above the closed-up ticket counters along the south side of the concourse were still illuminated, reading CANCELLED – CANCELLED – CANCELLED on every line. None of the station’s usual Christmas decorations had gone up even though Thanksgiving had been two days earlier; the station had already been closed then, with no civilians allowed in. Police tape blocked off the stairs to the north entrance. Somewhere far in the distance she thought she heard the rumble of the trains traveling through the empty station without stopping, but it could have been her imagination.

She had seen pictures of the concourse in the immediate aftermath of the Snap, not to mention the famous TIME magazine cover that had come out a week later: a little girl knee-deep in drifts of black ash, holding a doll and staring in incomprehension, the American flag huge behind her. From the pictures Natasha had seen the concourse floor had been blanketed in ash; the Snap had struck at rush hour, and the station had been full of people. It had become one of the most iconic images of the Snap in the United States.

The eerie emptiness of the place made the back of her neck prickle. The steps of the Avengers seemed to echo overly loudly as they crossed to the escalators on the north wall, standing still and silent and blocked off with more police tape. The engraved marble arch above them read STARK TOWER 45TH STREET.

I really wanted to dig into the visuals of post-Snap America, partially because, well -- I think in a very real way Horizon was my way of coping with the 2020-2021 hellscape. For this, I went and looked up the vast array of spring and summer 2020 photographs of New York City, specifically for Grand Central and the MetLife Building. (There's a neat post here with a slider that has pictures/video of pre/post covid New York.)

For some reason I didn't make the connection that the interior of Grand Central got smashed up in The Avengers (you see the four-sided clock bouncing as a leviathan crashes into it), so there's actually no acknowledgment of that in this scene, but we are talking about Marvel so it would probably get rebuilt exactly like the previous version.

The police taped-off stairs are another covid detail, though I've also put the police tape across the escalators leading to Stark Tower (source -- this one also has an "a day in Grand Central Terminal" video.)

Canonically, Stark Tower is the MetLife Building with the top whacked off and the Tower built on top of it, so the sign that IRL says "MetLife Building" says "Stark Tower"

I've gone off the assumption that the building's official name is Stark Tower, not Avengers Tower; the latter is a nickname, but not its actual name. That's why they're used near interchangeably throughout Horizon.

Natasha's description of going from Grand Central to the MetLife Building (a.k.a. Stark Tower) is as accurate as I could make it, because you know what? apparently you can't videotape inside the MetLife Building so the walkthroughs I found all got cut off when a security guard intercepted the videographer. My big divergence from canon is that I used the MetLife Building's lobby, not the Stark Tower lobby that we see in Endgame, which was filmed in a completely different building in Atlanta. This was specifically because I wanted to use this:

The glass storefronts of the shopping concourse on the ground floor stared emptily at them, most with the signs removed – Rhodey had been right, very few tenants had remained by the time the tower had been sold. A few had still been open until the Snap, and printed or handwritten signs on the locked doors and windows read variations on TEMPORARILY CLOSED – CLOSED DUE TO STATE OF NEW YORK MANDATES – CLOSED 30 DAYS SEE YOU JUNE 1. Through a window Natasha could see a glass-fronted refrigerator in one café, the shelves fully stocked with food and beverages except where a soda can had exploded.

MORE SPRING/SUMMER 2020 DETAILS, FRIENDS! The description of the untouched refrigerator with the exploded soda can is a detail borrowed from a friend of mine who actually works in Midtown Manhattan; she got a LOT of questions from me and walked her phone around the exterior of the MetLife Building for me at one point. The "see you June 1" sign is a real sign that I can't find a picture of right now. (In the original covid version it was, I think, April 1 or May 1.)

I have never actually been to Grand Central or to the MetLife Building (the last time I was in New York was in, I think, 2003), so I tried really hard to make it accurate; I don't know if it actually is. But I was trying for a very specific vibe that I should, I think, be familiar to us. I looked at a lot of photographs, I read a lot of news articles, I wracked my own memory, I watched a lot of vlogs about New York from that year.

[weezereater]

This is an MLM dark, horror romance. I’ve taken a lot of inspiration from the denpa genre, especially subahibi and sayonara o oshiete. It’s gritty, nihilistic, and gruesome. With lots of transgressive themes.

So I used an AI anime art generator to make a rough idea of what tatsumi looks like! His hair is a bit lighter, and a little bit longer in my mind. But this is pretty much his appearance. He usually wears very flashy fashionable clothes and some light makeup but I feel like this pic is like his chill lazy day look lmao.

I’m still deciding on a name for the story. But here’s a quick summary of how yuichi (MC) and tatsumi met:

After yuichis devastating loss of his ex Toya, he became obsessed with finding out what could have caused this. He knew there was much more to it than the surface. Considering how gruesome and horrific the method toya used for his suicide. Not to mention he’d heard from everyone that Toya was doing well, and he was happier than ever, contradictory to when Toya dated him. And no one was even close to seeing it coming, not even toyas older sister. But when yuichi gets a mysterious letter from one of toyas old friends who had told him about an eerie phone call he’d received not too long before the death of Toya.

‘I’m leaving, and I don’t want you to contact me ever again. I can’t tell you where I’m going, and I can’t say too much. I don’t even know the extent of what happened. But I’ll give you a name, someone who can give you answers to some of your questions about Toya. His name is tatsumi maebara.’

This is where the two meet, they begin an online friendship, a little bit of subtle flirting as well. But soon yuichi realizes that this isn’t a matter of simple answers and explanations, there is an entire universe to uncover, and the deeper he falls into the hole of tatsumi and his three close friends, the more inescapable it becomes, and the more everything in yuichis life morphs and shifts into a hellscape that is incomprehensible.

[outeremissary]

🕷️ SPIDER and 🌏 EARTH and 💡 LIGHTBULB for Balthazar pls.

🕷️ SPIDER - what is their biggest fear? do they have any irrational / mundane fears?

I think I may have said it before, but Balthazar's greatest fear is being controlled. The idea of losing his autonomy is worse than anything else to him. And even more than that, he fears that he's already being played without realizing it. There's a bone-deep terror in him of being unable to shape his own fate from a lifetime of expectation heaped on him as a result of his bloodline. Living only at someone else's whims would make life meaningless. In a similar way, he fears that somewhere deep within him his blood has given him a nature he doesn't have the power to change (largely because he associates embracing his angelic ancestry with being used).

Mundane and irrational fears... he's really not fond of animals, and finds dogs of any size somewhat unnerving. No love for horses either. Fear of sudden public ridicule also strikes at random times. Despite being a social butterfly he hasn't got much affection for or trust in people...

🌏 EARTH - will they give up the world for someone they love? is this decision easy for them?

Going for the throat here, huh... He'd certainly say no if you asked him. He'd never believe it of himself. And he'd expect it would be easy, too. After all, it's his goal to live selfishly and always satisfy his own desires. But as the omniscient creator and divine watchmaker, I'd say that it's certainly more difficult than that. I think for most people he cares for he still wouldn't be willing to make major sacrifices or would hesitate to give things up, but for the closest... the value he places on his own desires and even his own safety would finally be matched. It would be terribly hard. Or maybe it would be easy after all. With ambition, what's giving up the world besides a temporary setback, anyway?

At any rate, I very much think this is something that changes over time as he develops deeper and more genuine connections with people. In my heart Pathfinder: Kingmaker is about the power of friendship. <- delusional

💡 LIGHTBULB - is your oc a planner? do they write down every small detail or just wing it?

Balthazar is a planner in the sense that he spends a lot of time turning things over in his head and meticulously plotting out courses based on that. He rarely writes things down though- if he doesn't remember it, it didn't matter that much. Surely there will be a way to work around it if it turns out important. The result is that even though he does spend a lot of time planning things out, he's quick to discard plans and go in completely different directions in the moment. He's never married to any one idea.

On a related note, the desk in his study is an incomprehensible hellscape to anyone except him.

[directdogman]

i actually knew about cumming georgia bc i order cookies from there very occasionally as a gift for collaborators.

little behind the scenes thing: they're my tier 1 gift. i give different kinds of gifts depending on circumstance. the tiers are as follows:

tier 1: i give cookies. this is a sign that you're doing good work and i want it to continue. oftentimes this includes an inappropriate message, like "best mom ever" or 'greetings from kentucky'. sometimes it's personalized

These cookies have not failed as a gift yet.

tier 2: i sent some kind of strange meat, like some kind of exotic sausage. favourites are elk, boar, pheasant and a few other odd meats i can acquire, sometimes strange mixes. The most i've sent as one is elk, boar, pheasant, venison + rabbit. usually this is to seal some kind of deal or covenant with a very close friend, like a barbarian gifting you a battleaxe as an invitation to come fight together. to get this tier of gift is a sign of serious commitment/duty.

tier 3: i send some kind of hellish personalized one-of-a-kind item. this is a declaration of fealty, only used on those I've worked with for years and/or owe a severe debt of gratitude to. 9 times out of 10, the person's response is just confusion as the object is so abstract and bizarre. often no picture of the item is sent back, just text akin to "what is this." these gifts tend to invoke strong emotions, a sense of existential dread. a reminder that all we have is each other in this weary, incomprehensible hellscape.

hope this helps!

Where's dialtown located? Sorry if you've answered this before, couldn't find it anywhere

northern wisconsin! there is actually a dialtown in georgia, and it comes up once in-game when you're talking to Tango (in-universe, they were bullied into changing their name!)

[fallloverfic]

@pandemonium-14 replied to your post I am legitimately confused by repeated comments that ORV's opening is slow or boring or uninteresting...:

I think the reason people say it's slow to start is because it's somewhat slow at giving glimpses what the story becomes later. I think people deep in ORV are really enamoured with its meta aspects (me included), and those aspects start paying off pretty late. Before that, Dokja's knowledge is used in a pretty normal way that can be compared to a lot of regression manhwas. I also think the start is very strong, but it doesn't actually show its hand until later.

I disagree, honestly, in part because I'm talking about both the novel and the manhwa, not just the manhwa, and I think you're giving people way too much credit for this stuff, especially since most often I heard the opening described as bad or boring compared to the "good" later parts, and I seldom if ever see people even namedrop stories that do it better or do it the same. They just describe it as, on its own, slow, bad, or boring, and unable to entice new people (even though the point of an opening is to entice people? I don't comprehend this crowd of people willing to stick around for hundreds of chapters to get to the "good" stuff). And I think that this response misses the point of my original post: even if folks love the later parts of the narrative more, the opening is good, and very good, and people framing the story as if there's nothing of goodness in the opening of ORV are incomprehensible to me.

There are probably a lot of reasons people say the series is slow to start, and this explanation is way too complex for that. The story is about companionship, what you're willing to do for other people, what you're willing to sacrifice, the complexities of contract negotiation (which is maybe boring for some folks but fascinating from a legal perspective, especially as contracts make up so much of our lives living in capitalist hellscapes), dealing with apocalyptic scenarios, the power of reading and what reading means, and a lot of other things, all of which are brought up at the start of the story. Dokja literally starts with reading his webnovel on his phone, he gets introduced properly to Sangah, he meets Gilyoung, he starts recruiting people on his team. The story gets more complex as time moves on, in part because it's a long narrative and a lot happens, and any narrative is going to gain complexity as time passes and characters grow and their stories with each other evolve. The story rewards rereads, because you actually see a lot of foreshadowing early on (you literally see Kimcom in episode 0 of the manhwa).

The meta is a big part of what people love, and I do like it, too, but I think you might be ignoring the meta that gets introduced in the first chapters. It's not for nothing the protagonist is a webnovel reader who is literally reading the end of a story at the beginning of his own story that's not really his story but was truly his story all along (and one of his past reads is another story by the author of this webnovel). In the novel Dokja tries to do what little he can to give thanks to an author who gave him something he loves, and gets attacked for it, in a way that's very familiar to folks who have been online for any amount of time. As someone who's written fiction and read fiction and enjoys art, it's heartbreaking and wonderful. There's meta about the act of streaming, and how invasive streaming and streaming audiences can be, and how demanding life as performance is. There are deep questions about what we view as heroic and villainous and why (Dokja's entire narrative, really, but also in the station demanding money for his food, even from a child, and people expecting him to give it away). There's meta about being doomed by the narrative - Dokja is doomed by his name, which he didn't pick, by an uncaring capitalist society, by just not being lucky enough generally to be good at things or even being literally doomed by a narrative because he prefers reading over self-improvement, which tanks his job prospects - right from the get-go. Like I could go on but the story's already written, I don't need to write it.

I'm sure plenty of people just love later parts of the story, which is fair, to each their own, as I said in my original post, but maybe they skimmed through or forgot the opening because to insist it only gets much better later is, in my opinion, a disservice to the opening, particularly since how long the "bad" opening section is, is quite variable, depending on which person is saying it's bad or boring or slow. Like the specific reason I never mention a cut-off is because the goalpost for where the good stuff allegedly starts keeps changing. There was one week I saw multiple people saying you had to read through hundreds of chapters to get to the "actual" good stuff! And I just... do not understand it at all. Saying you personally like later parts of a story more than earlier parts or find them likable at all is not the same as "the opening is bad because the meta I like doesn't start/unfold until [insert much later portion]" or "the opening is similar to other stories in the genre, but it gets unique later on." And it's especially annoying when, on the cusp of maybe getting two new visual adaptations of the novel, people are using this reasoning to argue that it'll be bad at attracting new folks cause the opening - the thing meant to keep people watching - is going to be too uninteresting.

Openings are not easy to make. ORV has a good one. And unless people start predicating these comments with "it's the same as other manhwa until y happens" or whatever their reasoning is, I'm going to take it at face value: they think the opening is bad/slow/boring. And while they're perfectly within their right to think so, I disagree with that as a statement, or that it should be commonly accepted that the opening is bad/slow/boring.

[poodleman]

Okay so I just drank a bottle of Belgian beer for the first time in ages which I hope is a suitable preface for what is to follow. I also have a confession to make: lately I have been swept up with watching NDE (near death experience) videos. 34+ years ago I went wayward from my born-again path, though some time after that phase when I was high on weed I would get paranoid that God was going to condemn me to hell if I died. I am of an older generation--self-identifying as gen-x although on the cusp with that and boomer--that has been largely exposed to scientific materialism, some of which was made manifest in the "cool crowd" spouting existentialism-isms like "life's a bitch and then you die" (which would sometimes be corrected in response to "life's a bitch and then you marry one", charming, isn't it?). I'm sure I have a point here, bear with me and I'll find it. Deep down I have never quite accepted that we just live our lives and then die and then rot in the ground, turn to food for the worms and that's it. It feels lately like I've discovered a new religion, only this one--at least for the time being--is not subject to dogmatic calcification. It appears to me to be more than a coincidence or some kind of snake oil side hustle that so many people being interviewed on these NDE YouTube podcasts share so many similarities in their stories. Also, some of these interviewees are scientists and academics and one show, "Next Level Soul" has a host formerly in the film industry who interviews a well-known producer also from the film industry who produced a film starring Robin Williams. Another interview is with a woman who is part of the current Artemis mission from NASA to re-visit the moon. Other subjects, however, come from many walks of life, as in a former drug addict and prostitute or a hospital nurse. Things get flaky for me, however, when there is talk of higher vibrations and "quantum healing," a term apparently coined by Deepak Chopra. It's as if everybody has an inexplicable knowledge of quantum physics. This said, I still want to believe. In a weird way it makes more sense to me than just dying and becoming worm fodder. The appeal for me lies in things like the afterlife apparently being free of judgment and that there exists there a love that is incomprehensible within this lowly 3D earthly realm. What I don't like is that there is a tittering council of twelve that is very persuasive in sending you back to the earthly hellscape because that's what you agreed to before you were born into your present life (which you still have to go back to because your work isn't finished and if you refuse you will be reborn into a new earthly life). At the very least it's a colourful landscape and one far more convincing, at least to me, than, for example, Christian fundamentalism. And really, what harm is there in having some sort of mythos permeating your existence?

So what follows is a few of the YouTube videos I've been watching lately. Drinking a beer and chilling out seems to be the best response. Rochefort Trappiste 8, if you're curious.

[goldenageofwireless]

I love having thoughts in my brain bc where else am I gonna get meef is beet

[teaboot]

Every time I see a brand I know it was on purpose and I add it to my ever growing mental list of brands to never ever buy from. If we all do this then eventually we will live in an incomprehensible hellscape of brands advertising other brands to generate animosity and reign supreme over the public psyche through intentional obscurity

[lightdancer1]

A brief scene from a future chapter of Valley:

Himiko was alone in the Palace, save for Princess Usaki. Her cousin, in a sense, was sitting beside her very quietly.

"I had a cousin, once."

Himiko blinked and looked at her.

Usaki's face was a mask of grief.

"Her name was Jiren. She was....hurt. By her parents. Hurt very badly. For years. Everyone knew about it. I knew about it. And I did nothing. I wanted to survive." Himiko would long remember the look of sorrow on her face.

"Her parents hurt her in the way that Hideyoshi hurt people. For years. One day she got tired of being hurt. So she killed them. My cousin, Princess Sakura. Her father, Prince Akira. Burned them alive. Down to the bones."

Himiko was very still and very silent then.

"It was the Fire Lord, then, our cousin Azulon, who found her after that. She was in the middle of a furious rage and with great vengeance and furious anger launched herself at him because he hurt her. He told me this, you see."

Silence.

"I think it was a confession or maybe he was taunting me. I could never tell. Maybe it was a sense of guilt. We all knew. I'd seen the aftermath of....of some of it and I just sat back and I did nothing because I was afraid. A coward."

She leaned forward slightly.

"He killed her with a lightning bolt to the chest."

Himiko's eyes were wide.

"Because she fought to defend herself. Because she thought he might attack her, too. That's why I care, Himi. I was a coward, once. I let something horrible happen and someone who trusted me and was betrayed was murdered for it in cold blood."

Himiko's gaze was a wide, uncomprehending one.

"That's why Azula left, you see." Now her expression was a sad smile.

"She knew how poorly it would go in this Palace if people killed without sanction of the Fire Lord. I don't know how she found out, but she did know."

Himiko stood when she saw Usaki brandishing a scroll.

"That's her diary!" Her voice was angry.

Usaki's voice was cold and the shift was so abrupt that Himiko found herself staring in blank incomprehension to how that shift could happen that swiftly.

"She's a corpse in an anonymous grave in that hellscape of a city, no doubt. Killed in a war of gods and monsters. Lu Ten and the old Fire Lord are supposedly ghosts, now. If I see her ghost telling me to put it back, I'll put it back. Until then I'm not going to care what a corpse thinks, and I'll take being yelled for propriety on her behalf from anyone but the person who murdered her."

For a moment Himiko saw something very dark and unpleasant in Usaki's manner, a reminder that she too was of the blood of Enzozhu and that fire and fury would and could blaze out unpredictably. She sat back down.

"You were right, though. She was sentimental. Weak. In the end she did have a heart just like dear sweet little Zuzu." The contempt in her voice brought Himiko up short. "Zuko was always too weak for this place. Didn't have the brains or the brawn for survival. The war will kill him at some point, that's what war does. She was an ideal Firebender and the perfect Princess. And where is she now?"

Usaki sighed.

"I thought until now that I was the only one to even remember my cousin. And in this scroll, and a few others, her name survives."

She stood up in turn.

"So the next time you ask me why I still stand by you, I'll remind you of the last person I failed. Father asked me to stand by her and I didn't. He asked me to stand by you."

And with that Usaki stepped out, as Himiko sat in a room lit by torches.

In the corner of the room sat her sister, as she had last seen her in Earth Kingdom green. Azula said nothing, and the worst part was that she knew this was a mind-phantom. Her sister did not judge her. She stared at her with the kind of warm smile she'd hated in life and longed for nothing more in death.

"I'm sorry," she rasped.

The mind phantom said nothing and then in an eyeblink it too was gone.

[angie-long-legs-moved]

"Extreme?"

The Radio Demon's foolish remark earned a short, piercing laugh from Angel, who was still clutching his pig in a fierce grip. "Yer lucky I didn't bust out the fuckin' choppers on ya, ya goddamn maniac! If ya ever-"

This marked the last of the harsh words Alastor permitted Angel to throw at him, his patience apparently depleted, and the spider was ground to a halt by a shock of blinding green that infected his sight.

The last thing Angel saw before he was dragged into oblivion was the yellowed grin of his competitor, poised expectantly as he turned the spider's green-tinged surroundings to black.

What came next, Angel could not describe - the only somewhat reasonable comparison was to his imaginings of Hell when he was alive. Blood, rotten flesh, disease, decay... Angel's mind was assaulted with an array of intolerable images, all of his senses muddling into an overwhelming amalgamation of horrors. Unrelenting shrieks were superimposed with visions of incomprehensible beings, creatures that took on impossible shapes with fragmented, bone-like limbs and wound-like eyes and mouths. The chill of the air ate him right down to the core; it was damp, cold but burning, and his own screams merged inseparably with those of the hellscape he had found himself in. How long he was trapped in this nightmare realm was unknown and meaningless to him - the mental anguish was ruthless and unending, its thrall inescapable, all the while he was falling, falling, falling...

When Angel's eyes snapped open once again, he gasped, loud and hoarse, his eyes once again meeting the cruel gaze of the Overlord who he had forgotten all about during his... whatever the hell that was. What even... was he still in the kitchen with Alastor? What the fuck just happened?

His daze was interupted by the protests of the pig in his arms, nudging at his chin in a distinctly frantic motion. Blinking down at the little creature and instinctively moving to pet him soothingly, Angel watched a drop of liquid fall from his face to the pigs head. Was that... was he crying? Slow and dreamlike, he reached to touch his cheek, realising in the process that his hands were shaking. Sure enough, it was damp.

Alastor's snide comment snapped Angel's gaze up to face him, the stag's perpetual smile resembling a sneer in spite of his guise of innocence.

"The fuck was that?" Angel spat. His defensive fury might have been more effective had his voice not been wavering, wide eyes betraying the residual fear from his horrifying disappearance.

//Please tag my new blog @angie-long-legs so I don't miss your reply! 🩷🕸

That was the last straw.

Angel was not a patient man, and Alastor was no doubt well aware of this. He chose to antagonise the spider for his own amusement because he found humour in riling up his peers, but there was a limit to what Angel could withstand when it came to others pushing his buttons. And that limit was violently breached the second Alastor chose to add "running off with Fat Nuggets and threatening to eat him" to his elaborate list of crimes.

With the pig now safely back with his mama, Angel glared viciously at the demon who had dared to cross him. While his top set of arms clutched Fat Nuggets, who was snorting quietly in confusion, his lower set clenched into straining fists.

Surely, Alastor would sense this was a shade too far, Angel had thought. Sadistic as was, he had sworn to protect the hotel - surely the Radio Demon wasn't stupid enough to push Angel further when it came to his baby. That's what he had told himself, anyway.

How wrong he was!

As the sharp, crimson finger of the Overlord made contact with his pig, Angel's patience cracked with devastating impact. Thoughtlessly, one of his lower hands, already poised for attack, swung to smack the other demons' offending touch away from Fat Nuggets, the other fist flying towards Alastor's face with wild force. It landed with a harsh smack, knuckles colliding with the Overlords' cheek in an aggressive display of a mothers' protective instincts.

Still tightly holding onto his pet, Angels' breathing came fast and heavy. "Try that again, Alastor," he panted, flushed as his body coursed with adrenaline. "I fucking dare ya ta try that shit again. See where it gets ya."