#this spindle is old as fuck

[highlynerdy]

Breaking out my spindle for the first time in like twenty years a while, and hooooooo buddy, it is humbling to feel like a total beginner again. I've been spinning on my wheel for so long that I've all but forgotten how to use a spindle, but it's quite enjoyable to re-learn.

[cuddlytogas]

yesterday some friends and i went to the special ancient egyptian pharoahs exhibit at the ngv, and i got so utterly entranced by a linen funeral shroud, i think i saw god and/or went completely insane for about fifteen minutes

the fibres were so fine. and not just fine, they were uniform. it was from the roman period, so only (only!) 2,000 years old, but the fibres were still so fine and uniform

i'm not good at identifying weft and warp on a piece of fabric - i think i got it wrong while i was looking at it - and obviously it's very hard to know what's inherent to the fabric and what's the product of degradation over time or mishandling, but there was this long, thin tear right down the middle, and i thought it was maybe a seam that had come apart, but the painting alignment didn't quite fit that, and there were a few threads crossing through it that i could see, so i wonder if maybe one or two weft threads had degraded or torn or been pulled loose. but the tear was so straight and exact, and held together at one end by the other fibres, it was so incredible to see

and there were a couple of places where i thought there were slightly chunkier threads - it happens all the time in modern linens - but when i looked closer, i could see that actually it was two threads in the same part of the weave (warp threads, i think?)

and again, okay, could be a product of the degradation, or damage - but also... it could so easily have been a slight fault in the manufacturing, and i don't know the first thing about ancient egyptian weaving techniques, or what kind of loom they did or didn't use, or any of that - but still, it was so easy to imagine these two warp threads being set slightly too close together on a loom, and being caught together by the weft, and leaving this slightest bulge, this perfect imperfection in the cloth

it was beautifully, intricately, colourfully painted, too, yes - but underneath that, i can only imagine that lovely dun, beige colour was unbleached and undyed; and yet again, yes, of course it would've darkened with age and use - it was a funeral shroud, there was a corpse under it once - but to look at this linen and see the colour of the flax two thousand years ago, it's just - absolutely mind-boggling

the whole exhibit was deliberately structured around highlighting the craftsmanship behind the artefacts, as well as the power, social structures, and cultural significance they represented, which was fairly well done. I watched that video after seeing the exhibition, and in hindsight, yeah, I did notice that many of the labels highlighted the detail and excellence of the items, and they had things like jewellery moulds and scribe's tools, as well as the big impressive statues and murals. at least a couple of the room introduction wall texts made sure to mention craftspeople; and there were a few places dedicated to both the bureaucratic structures, and working people and villages, that created and kept up the temples and palaces.

but there was also definitely a slight lack of information, i felt, in regard to the crafts, especially if that was their goal. i might also just be underestimating the general public, but there were a few times where we were wondering what something in an image was, but found nothing in the label; and it would've been cool if they, perhaps, had images or recreations of craftspeople in the period showing how the items would have been made.

like, obviously i'm biased towards the fabric, because that's my craft - and to be clear, the shroud was part of the room on jewellery and adornment, with the label pointing out the jewellery worn by the painted figure, rather than the craft of the item itself. but it would've been cool to have, in this example, either a contemporary image or a recreated one of what tools would have been used for the spinning and weaving of this cloth, and by what groups.

there were many parts of the exhibit where you could see on the glass where people had pressed their hands or noses or foreheads to try and get close, to see the intricate work on tiny rings or murals or votive items, the engraving and carving and painting done with such incredible skill. and again, they had those scribe's tools, and jewellery moulds, a few weapons, and (iirc) both ritual and functional builder's tools. which i DID VERY MUCH appreciate!

but fibre arts are already often devalued in our culture, and with industrialisation, we've really lost sight of the work and skill that, for thousands of years, went into making fabric. i would've loved to have seen them highlight not just the image of jewellery on this shroud, but the shroud itself.

because, yeah: this linen was beautiful. and to see this cloth, with these fibres that are finer and more uniform than many modern fabrics... like, obviously it's very good linen - the label only said it was for a woman called Isetweret, not what her status was, but i think it's a safe bet she wasn't the proletariat - but still.

just. i really fucking love history, oh my god

[bringbackgoth]

Watch this man turn literal scrap and 'trash' wood into an INCREDIBLE 'english cottage' style shed.

[the-hawthorns-ocs]

Soothsayer Spindle'stare

MY ABSOLUTE FAVE OC EVER! MY SKRUNKLY!!!!

Character Bio:

Kinship: The Hawthorns

Queer (loves wife <3); what's a gender? (agender); it/she

Age: 3 cycles, 11 moons; ~31 Hyrs

Voice Headcanon: Entrapta - She-Ra - And The Princesses of Power (but like if she smoked a pack-o-sigs a day???)

Title meaning: -stare = uhh stares, like a lot, its weird, does it blink???; Soothsayer specific -> this cat can see into your soul and across the vail of death and see what your future holds

Role: Soothsayer

Mother: River'riddle

Father: Monarch Bat'flight

Siblings: Monarch Light'fall

Mate: Worm'soil

Other notable kin: Heir Night (nephew)

Extra Notes: her name was originally Garlicnose but after a series of polls I have decided on Spindle'stare as it's new name! Hooray!

Character Summary:

this ones long bec she's my blorbo, sorry not sorry :P

Soothsayers are born absolute weirdos, that's actually how a Kinship can tell that a cat is probably a Soothsayer. They are all not entirely there, because they walk the line between the living and the dead, this gives them the gift of foresight into the future and the ability to commune with the dead, but it also makes them distant, odd, they act like their minds are often in a whole other plane from regular cats.

In Spindle'stare's case, its just really kooky, an absolute creature. Though she is also very traumatized, which is kinda a given for Soothsayers... but it's even worse for her. As a kit her connection to the Stars was almost entirely cut off, and was instead taken over by the Dark Maw... The Maw wanted control over the Hawthorns, and becoming their future Soothsayer's spiritual source was one of the best ways to do this.

Deep deep down I think that Spindle knows there is something off about her spiritual connection, but she doesn't really process this at all. She pretty much believes that she has a normal connection and is totally talking to the Stars and not the Dark Maw. Sometimes she gets a random breakthrough connection to the Stars and is bombarded by so many messages and warnings from the ancestors she is pretty much unable to process it and just becomes even more confused and overwhelmed, acting even more strange than normal.

As a result of the Dark Maw's hold on Spindle, the Soothsayer has not been able to aid the kinship in ways it should be able to. During Spindle's training and apprenticeship the Kinship went through a horrible illness that killed many many cats, everyone questioned why Spindle was unable to receive prophecies foretelling these deaths, or guiding them to a cure... Spindle was simply helpless and useless in a time what the kinship needed a spiritual guide the most... This event has left the Kinship not all too trusting of Spindle's guidance, and has left Spindle lost and confused as to why the Stars do not with to help her.

Though Spindle seems like an old kooky lady she is actually only around 4 cycles old aka. in her early 30s in human years. Spindle was littermates with Monarch Light'fall, they were extremally close, and Light was often the only one who could keep her stable, in the present, and more herself. Spindle was devastated at Light'fall's death and she fell deeper into the spiritual plane as a result, only Spinde'stare's mate Worm'soil is able to bring Spindle into clarity these days, and it is far more difficult to do so.

Spindle spends much of it's time with her mate Worm'soil, they are one of the few cats who are not creeped out by her, they understand her and love it deeply despite it's strangeness. They were childhood friends, and grew even closer during the era of illness in their youth... both of them bonded over the extreme pressure on them at the time, Spindle with the expectation of life saving prophecies and omens, and Worm with the health of the Kinship as a Healer apprentice.

The two of them are now two fucked up middle aged women(ish) who are just trying to survive their high stress roles in their very problematic kinship... They can often be found hanging out on their lonesome together, with Spindle buried in Worm's fluff <3

[callsignmarz]

MDNI |18+| König x Reader

TW- slightly suggestive, explicit language & sexual content.

“Prisoner Of War”

“Du bist gut, Schatz. But, I’m better.”

(You are good, Dear.)

For years, you’ve been on König’s radar.

You were quite the problem.

Always two steps ahead and leaving pandemonium behind.

What was supposed to be a simple contract ended up being a diverting game of cat and mouse. Admittedly, the hunt was exhilarating. It wasn’t everyday he encountered someone with your set of skills.

Unpredictable. Cunning. Dangerous.

But, needless to say, all games must come to an end.

His boots scuffed the asphalt, slowly pacing with his hands clasped behind his back, savoring the celebratory taste of victory like it were an old fashioned cocktail. The steel blue gaze that peered underneath his sniper hood, did nothing compared to the metal cuffs chafing your wrists raw.

“Es tut mir Leid, wunderschön. (I’m sorry, beautiful.)”

His tone full of mockery. “I had to ensure you weren’t going anywhere.”

A disdainful scoff pushes past your lips in response, your legs cross with confident ease. “Why, afraid you’ll never see me again and miss me too much?”

Despite the many encounters, König had forgotten that smart ass mouth of yours. It always did something to him. Never once in the years he’s worked as a mercenary, has anyone ever talked to him in such a manner.

Only you.

“Such insolence…” He snarled, forging his tone with disgust as he circled back to stand behind you with his eyes boring into the back of your head. “Did you forget who graced you by sparing your pitiful life or do I need to remind you?”

Your lips pursed at the very question with the memory of your humiliating defeat thrown back in your face.

Vexation spindles within as you dwell on how you were so blinded by arrogance that it left yourself wide open, practically handed him the win.

Just to prove a point, the thick metal chains rattle when König’s large hands suddenly slammed down on either side of you with his body pressing against your back, caging you in nothing but pure muscle and authority.

“I believe I asked you a question, Schatz. (Dear.)”

König’s voice sunk to a low octave as he slouched down, the fabric of his hood lightly brushes the outer part of your ear and you feel the warmth of his breath through the material, completely electrifying your nerve endings.

In turn, he couldn’t help but notice how tame you’ve become. A flicker of unwarranted desire reflects in König’s eyes as they trail the column of your throat, a conquering smile crept onto his face when he saw you swallow, a negligible detail that only a keen eye would catch.

“Sag mir nicht, dass du nervös bist. (Don't tell me you're nervous.)” König purrs.

“Don’t make me fucking laugh…” You hissed out with potent venom.

The moment your head snaps to the side, König’s hand instantaneously latched onto your jowl with a firm grip, wedging a breath in your throat as he forcibly tilted your head back to meet with his imperious gaze.

“I warned you about this filthy little mouth of yours.”

The air sprouts with pending venereal tension when his pointer finger glides over to tantalize your plumped bottom lip. Your panties pool when he inserts his finger into your mouth, your mind shuts off and your body takes over as you begin to steadily suck. König’s chest vibrates in amazement yet he fascinated by your brazen behavior.

Your tongue swirls expertly around while bobbing your head to take in each digit in a rhythmic trend, his muscles flexed at the sensation of you gagging from the length of his finger, driving it deeper into the back of your throat.

“Fucking whore.”

[beansprean]

Queening the Pawn Act 3 Part 4

There is a lot of Guide content in this act which not everyone may vibe with but dw I promise it’s interesting and Nandor will return lmao

Acts 1-2

Act 3: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Series of darkening thin gray panels with some clanking and thunking noises and dialogue over the top. The Guide counts, “1, 2, 3… Ah, fuck. 1, 2, 3… Where are you, you son of a…“ with every count, there is a corresponding tap. 1b. Shot from outside a door labeled “boiler” in brass, with a paper sign tacked over it that says “Guide’s room”. The door is open, and inside we can see a plain concrete room with a wooden coffin sitting upright in one corner and the Guide kneeling on the floor fiddling with something out of sight. She continues, “Come on, I know it was in August… Maybe I should get a new filing cabinet for non-paper personal items that need to be found quickly! 1, 2, 3…” 1c. Close up on the Guide sitting in front of the open drawer of a filing cabinet as she lifts up a record with both hands and triumphantly exclaims “Ah-ha!” The record cover is labeled “taxes 1972” but this is crossed out. Other items filed in the drawer between Manila dividers include candles, some brightly colored plastic items, and what could be a dildo. Behind her in the room are an electric water heater and a poster from the film Van Helsing starring Hugh Jackman.

2a. Close up on the Guide smiling as she places the record on an old fashioned phonograph with a horn and taps the spindle thrice before she places it. 2b. Zoom out, the Guide plops down to the floor in a lotus position and closes her eyes as the record begins spinning and making sounds. 2c. Close up on the phonograph horn as a scratchy-looking speech bubble erupts from within, featuring a stoic-looking Laszlo with horn-rimmed glasses. He says, “Welcome to Dr. Cravensworth’s Self-Hypnosis for Easy Recall, side A. 2d. The record’s dialogue continues over an aerial shot of the Guide concentrating in her lotus pose, fingers pinches together at her knees, “Where we seek to remind all our patients, ‘don’t forget…to remember.’ Now…you are walking through the corridor of your mind…” The white Dias the Guide appears to be sitting on begins to splinter off, overlapping squares of glitching black swirling around the back and breaking off into chunks to reassemble as a curved gray hallway beneath her, lined on each side with closed doors. The lines are glitching and shaky, as if struggling to keep their form. Walking down the corridor is a second Guide, seen from above, hair down and glove-free, wearing a pitch black off the shoulder dress with a long train and sleeves. /end ID

[showtoonzfan]

I really try to understand and reread the Ken document to see where Viv’s supporters are coming from, but I’m sorry, all I thought when I was done reading it is that Vivienne is just mentally unstable to the point where she can’t carry a normal and steady conversation without either being petty or freaking out. I think that’s why so many of her peeps and fans excuse her because they see her in a vulnerable state and see her say she’s “shaking” and that she can’t handle this, so everyone coddles her and thinks that Ken must have said something to warrant a reaction like this out of Vivzie…….expect….they didn’t.

Ken never harassed or poked Vivzie, they never got angry and forceful, but when they reasonably give Viv VALID constructive criticism about how she should be crediting her artists since she’s leading an INDIE team (and can’t figure that out apparently since she compared herself to fucking Disney) apparently that was enough to send Vivzie off the edge immediately and think that Ken was attacking her, when Ken said it themselves, they were just talking to her. To have fans paint Ken out to be this needy person who demanded credit in unwarranted aspects is disgusting, because what they said in their document was true. They HAD been responsible for writing MAIN plot points, jokes, and ideas that all made their away into the final product, and the fact that they only got an “additional writing” credit rather than having their name up with Viv, Dave, and Raymond is bullshit.

Viv’s point she had made of Ken’s writing only being in the “early stages” is literally a lie because what they wrote ended up in the final product, not only writing main jokes but Alastor being in the pilot and investing in the hotel, Angel being there for free rent and being the first hotel patron, Charlie trying to convince those of redemption ect. And then when the two brushed it aside, good ol’ perfect Vivzie called Ken an abuser to others, saying false things behind their back while ALSO pretending to be nice to them upfront. That’s my biggest issue. Tell me one instance where Ken was “abusing” Vivzie. They weren’t, Viv is just so fucking emotionally sensitive with zero thick skin and sees anyone daring to criticize her as an attack, and she’s STILL like that to this day. I really don’t see how people can read a document of her not only tracing and not crediting someone, but talking lies behind someone’s back while also being nice..and STILL support her, I really can’t. And it’s funny when some of y’all think that we want Hazbin to cease to exist or Helluva to stop running….no….we don’t give a shit about the shows, we want Viv to get the consequences of her actions and her victims to get justice. We want her to own up to what she’s done, especially the recent drama, and yet she never does cause in her eyes she can do no wrong. She always fucking acts like she did nothing wrong, or blames her behavior on everyone but herself. She’s a 30 year old woman, she acts like a child and needs to be kicked down a notch. She never learns from her experiences or gets better and it really is tiring to see people side with her EVERY single time, despite their being countless evidence clear as day that she’s an entitled brat, with even ANOTHER spindle-member coming out and revealing that they were mistreated as well:

All I can say is that I hope more members are inspired to come out, and not afraid, especially since there are ex members who came out that we haven’t heard a word from, like Salem Squidder, the person above, even Ashley Nichols. People need to realize that wether you like Viv or not, people were HURT by her, and she needs to come forward and confront it, not vague tweet and hide behind her fanbase, leaving everyone to fight her battles instead of herself.

[cellarspider]

4/30 Meeting the Prometheus crew. Hmm.

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

We return to the movie that I want to fold, spindle, and mutilate, Prometheus.

Time to actually meet the human crew.

Hooboy. I am feeling David’s dead-eyed look here. Content warning for jumpscare Charlize Theron, brief mention of vomit, depiction of smoking, and whatever the hell is going on with these people.

First off, there is Vickers (Charlize Theron). Her reveal implies that she has escaped containment, and is probably scuttling around in the vents somewhere. No, in fact, she is doing pushups. She asks David if anyone’s died with all the concern of an inconvenienced accountant,  because she is a Cold Corpo Queen who is going to be an asshole to everyone throughout the movie.

This includes David, who, again, may be meeting his makers for the first time here.

On the other hand, this has more dignity to it than the rest of the crew. They’re currently stumbling around and horfing up their two-year-old lunches, a grand tradition in the Alien franchise.

Charming.

Indeed, this is basically a recitation of a scene from Alien and Aliens: Everyone wakes up and feels like crap, except for a machine-like character and, in Aliens, a Black military dude, Sergeant Apone (Al Matthews), who wakes up and immediately chomps down on a cigar.

On an unrelated note, meet Captain Janek (Idris Elba). He’s smoking a cigarillo and setting up a Christmas tree on the ship’s pool table, while a nameless white guy appears to have ragdolled in the corner. Vickers disapproves.

We meet the last two crew members who are going to have enough of a presence in the plot to get names: Millburn (Rafe Spall) and Fifield (Sean Harris). Millburn is an awkward glasses-wearing dork of a biologist. So far, so realistic.

Fifield appears to be attempting to channel Sheamus the wrestler during a heel-y season. He isn’t here to make friends, he’s here to get paid. He’s here to win.

He’s a fucking geologist.

Sure, there’s a lot of geologists who work for extractive industries that probably are just there for the paycheck, but I don’t know how one of them ends up being selected for a mission of POTENTIAL FIRST CONTACT WITH AN ALIEN CULTURE.

This was absolutely baffling in the theater. What in the hell was this scene? This character? It felt so out of place. Little did I know that this was, in fact, setting expectations for the rest of the movie.

The human characters are not treated in the same way David is. We are not often invited to consider them as beings with inner lives, they are stock characters that you may or may not have previous affection for. And because we functionally meet David first, their presence is jarring.

Because these aren’t just stock characters from just any genre, they’re stock characters from a horror movie. Several different kinds of horror movie, with one bonus character trait if they're lucky. Elizabeth Shaw is the final girl (plus religious background), Charlie Holloway is the jock boyfriend (plus allegedly scientist), Millburn is the nervous, glasses-wearing nerd. Fifield the geologist is, bafflingly, the mercenary who’s Just There For The Money (plus rocks), Vickers is the heartless corpo, and Idris Elba is the calm and unflustered military guy. The rest of the characters, regardless of their role, are therefore consigned to being nameless dead meat.

This didn’t have to be the case. A different vibe could’ve been chosen. The marketing tied this movie to Alien. You’re introduced to everyone in that movie through the lens of their average, unremarkable jobs (in spaaaaace!), and you understand how the situation they find themselves in is completely, terrifyingly overwhelming. 

These are scientists and highly skilled professionals (in spaaaaace!). We have successful horror films out there, where scientists are placed beyond their limits. This used to be a whole thing in the 50s, where Serious Men of Science were sometimes the first and last line of defense against extremely rubbery aliens. Was it mostly goofy? Absolutely. But not always!

(First, the goofy: Night of the Blood Beast (1958), best known in latter days as MST3K’s Season 7 premiere (1995). The trailer features the amazing voiceover “The first satellite creature to impregnate man with its chromosomes!”, as heavy breathing plays in the background. “It’s true,” says a square-jawed white guy, “I can feel it inside!”.)

(Second, the straight: The Thing from Another World, precursor to John Carpenter’s The Thing. While just a standard monster movie, it features one of the first and honestly ridiculous full-body fire stunts on film. They repeatedly doused stuntmen in buckets of flaming kerosine.)

These have slowly died off in Hollywood, but there’s still some that pop up every so often: Contagion (2011) being the one that first comes to mind. Sunshine (2007) and Annihilation (2018) are another two that take a similar, slow tactic, all three of them containing horror elements in their premise and execution.

(major content warning on this first one for pandemic themes. Like, all of them.)

(cw for brief body horror, old self harm scars)

This was what I’d expected from the premise of the first five minutes: a well-prepared team, traveling to confront something with existential implications for humanity, taking the job seriously. The movie disabused me of that quickly, but it didn’t provide me anything as compelling in return.

If I had to guess what other movie Prometheus was trying to be like, The Thing (1982) is a strong candidate. It features a cast of dysfunctional people who are similarly broad in their characterization, and pits them against a source of alien body horror with existential implications for all of humanity. Unfortunately for Prometheus, it can’t live up to The Thing either. However, what it did manage to do was drive me COMPLETELY insane, starting in the next segment.

⛬

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

[searenbound]

Like I said here I’m going to start posting the occasional darker content posts so fair warning ahead of time this one will involve somnophilia and non-con

I’ve been thinking about the brothers Grimm telling of sleeping beauty, the one where the prince gave her twin before she ever woke up and it’s given some thoughts about prince Shouto.

Prince Shouto who on one of his many “trips” (read as attempts to run from his father) discovered an old castle in ruins and covered in a thick overgrowth of thorny vines that sparks curiosity.

Prince Shouto who cuts and forces his way into the old place hoping to find whatever valuables were left behind so he could keep on the run with whatever wealth he stumbles upon.

Prince Shouto who can’t believe his eyes when he discovers the perfectly preserved body of a beautiful young princess who had to be his age when she was put to rest.

When he gets closer he can see her chest rising and falling, feel the warmth of her skin when he touches her face. He knows it’s insane, her clothes are dusty and the room around clearly aged decades, maybe centuries, but she’s alive just asleep.

He quickly decides it must’ve been a curse, one he was obviously destined to break. And he soon becomes obsessed.

Convinced that his research on her long gone kingdom entitled him to the remains of it, that reading the old faded ink of what was likely her diaries meant he knew her deeply and personally.

And the dreams he’s been having, the ones where he disrobes her and deflowers her, was obviously the key to waking her.

He shudders at the warmth of her pussy wrapped tightly around his cock, convinced that the sighs and whines he pulls from her sleep stricken body, the first sounds he’s ever heard her make, was evidence that he was right.

He just needs to fuck her until she wakes, but once he’s finished inside her and she still sleeps peacefully he’s perplexed. Maybe he should keep trying, maybe he just, just had to keep fucking her for however long he pleased until it takes?

And of course when he returns one day to a new mother, drowsily looking around confused and dazed, he doesn’t think it all weird for him to take their son and kiss her lips. Paying no mind to her shocked who are you?

“Father of your children and your husband, isn’t that obvious?” The prince replies.

*EDIT*

Forgot to mention that the prince didn’t wake sleeping beauty in this version, one of their twins did when trying to nurse from their sleeping mother and instead sucked the spindle needle out her finger thus removing the curse.

[ginjones]

While it is usually Dream who makes the first move, this time it is Hob. Sharing his body with Hope in all the luxuriating pleasures of the evening. The wine and the songs and the sheer joy of it. An enjoyment, he admits, to having taking pleasure in himself. Music, while an indulgence from days long passed, is filled with stories and symbolism. He is learning, once again, to appreciate these things.

 Hob has learned to channel Hope so seamlessly that it is nothing short of a wonder. It is easy then, to allow this moment of pleasure. To allow Hob to coax him into the alleyway, to press him firmly up against the wall and crowd him with his body heat and his love and his childish naivety. A youthful endless may be oxymoronic and yet-here he is presented in every golden shade. Hob clambers for him, kisses him deeply, pours a sense of prospect into his own endless selfhood. And the light which radiates from them both now is nothing short of mesmeric.

Hope is all about momentum. He is an ever moving, ever striving force and for a moment, Dream luxuriates in that attention. Caught in the warmth of their bodies together as Hob ruts into him. His body brought low under the attentions of this god of indulgences. Baccus and Dionysus are not facets of Hope in the purest sense, and yet, Dream detects a redirection of a narrative. Hob has collected the spindles of an ancient story and pushed it seamlessly within himself.

“I know what you’re hoping for love and it’s okay” Hob says, with all the resolute assurance of a being so attuned to his power. “I’m going to make you feel so wonderful. I can feel your intentions like honey in my mouth. God’s wounds, darling. You taste so good.”

Every step that has led them here has been wonderous. And yet, the old hook of self-admonishment sinks itself like a thorn in his side. What are wants to a creature like him? Despite this evening, despite it all, he cannot help but fall back on the oldest story known to him:

“I do not hope for anything.”

Hob sighs quietly and brings him out of the hold. “Dream…..Come on Dove. You of all people know that a concept extends further than its naming in one language. What’s the root of the word?”

 And oh, this devilish thing. That little smirk of knowing. That yes, of course. Because he has ascended to the status of endless, Hob is privy to every facet of human knowledge. That every iteration of hope, in every language, appears to him as easily as blinking.

“Look, I’ll give you a clue… what does Hope mean in Greek?”

“There is…no direct translation of it but I suppose one would say the lady Elpis is the symbolic representation of it.”

“Yes”, Hob replies, the smile unwavering and gently coaxing him to continue.

“Elpis is expectation. Fulfilment.”

“This is my function, darling.” Hob laughs. “As much as you’re incapable or ignoring your duty to all those who dream I am incapable of ignoring an invocation to hope. And if my present state is anything to go by,” Dream regards the flush of his cheeks, the hard outline of his prick displayed proudly along the seam of his trousers, “I am absolutely, positively primed to grant you that fulfilment and fuck your brains out tonight.”

[the960writers]

Delilah S. Dawson:

Bad news: YOU HAVE BEEN LIVING WRONG YOUR WHOLE LIFE. You cook corn wrong, you eat cupcakes wrong, you haven’t used an old CD spindle to store hobo organs. Wrong, wrong, wrong. And that goes for writing, too.

Thing is, it’s hard to write when you’re doing life wrong, which is why I’m here to help. I’d actually like to write an entire non-fiction book about hacking your life and your writing, and this post is a test run. If you like it, please let me know in the comments. And if you see something I’m missing, like how you can write an entire book using a simple cordless drill and a Mason jar full of glitter, let me know that, too. I’m here to answer your questions about all the shit you’re messing up. Like your mom, but productive!

1. PICK UP THE FUCKING REINS AND START DRIVING.

You control the horse that is your life, and you can use spurs or dangle a carrot or just sit in the damn pasture and think about daisies. Acknowledge that you are in control. Accept that your writing is affected by the outside world and plan accordingly. As great as it would be if anyone could write at any time and unicorns were plentiful and good for eating, it’s just not true. Your writing will always come at the mercy of your environment, your job, your body, your hormones, your family. The best thing you can do is start engineering your world in a way that facilitates your writing. Also, start breeding edible unicorns.

2. EMBRACE THE MINIMAL EFFECTIVE DOSE.

[...]

[reigenkills]

yes this has plot now yes this might be longer than i planned it to be dont fucking look at me

ao3 | PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | 7 | 8

The father sends you off with a gift basket of vegetables and a bottle of wine for your help. He insisted, even after you refused, stating that you hadn't needed to visit and offer your services after he'd drunkenly harassed you the other night.

Death ditches you as soon as it starts raining, the prick, and you have to rush back to your inn drenched in rainwater. The innkeeper clicks her tongue over your state and ushers you into a warm bath, readying the fireplace for you to warm up by as soon as you're out. You end up falling asleep on one of the couches right by it, dozing away underneath a heavy, well-worn quilt.

You wake up to loud knocks on the front door the next morning. You tiredly open your eyes to see the innkeeper open the door to talk to someone, though their voices are way too far for you to clearly hear. Yawning, you stretch your arms, rising to sit back against the couch.

You can already feel the beginnings of a cold starting. Ugh. And you still had research work to do for Elrick's family. You run a hand over your face.

Right. Look for the spellcaster that made the spindle curse, which means look into the recent business contracts of Elrick's love's family, which means look into said love's family, which means look into Elrick's love. Fantastic.

You take a shower to wake yourself up. The innkeeper is nice enough to tell you she'll bring breakfast up for you, so you take your time standing under the hot water to shake as much fatigue off your muscles as you can. Your red cloak's still drying on the clothesline out back, so you'll have to ditch it and go with your regular clothes for now.

You return to your room to find your breakfast being pillaged by the massive wolf sitting on your bed.

"Fuck off!" You toss a boot at Death, since you'd grabbed your pair from the closet to lace up when you headed out. He catches it in mid-air without looking. "You don't even need to eat!"

"Says who?"

"You're Death!" You march forward to snatch your plate away from him. He tosses your boot right back at you, forcing you to duck. "What the fuck are you even doing here?"

"Business," he says.

"Then go collect the soul of whatever poor bastard kicked the bucket yesterday." You drop your other boot in favor of hurriedly shoveling food into your mouth, just in case he takes your plate from you again. "I'unno why you keep pestering me."

"Schadenfreude," he says. "You're annoying. I want to see you get put in a jar and shaken around."

You sneer at him. "I hope you get put in a jar and shaken around."

You finish your breakfast in record time, quickly putting on your boots to head downstairs for whatever bullshit involving death and gloom you're about to find yourself in if the wolf himself is here. There are two women waiting by the fireplace, both of them talking to the innkeeper with hushed tones and wringing hands. All of them stop at the sight of you on the staircase.

You have to stop yourself from turning around to see if they can see Death, but they make no mention of the wolf looming behind your shoulder. "Yes?"

"We heard from the Huntsman down the road," one of the old ladies says. "He says you know how to use magic?"

Oh boy.

Turns out the ladies' niece is sick. Has been sick for about a month, and none of the doctors can figure out what's wrong with her. With the scarcity of witches in town, they haven't been able to turn to magic for help, and so they'd decided to seek you out after they'd heard from their neighbor.

"We don't have much, but we're seamstresses," they say. "We would be indebted you, and we'll fix all your garments without charge."

"At…at least let me see what's wrong first," you say, because with Death hovering around, you have a sneaking suspicion that one of these old ladies is gonna offer her remaining life up for her niece, and you're not really keen on helping that along today.

Their house is a short walk from the inn. It's a nice sunny day out, a welcome change from the storm last night. You're welcomed into a small two-storey house a little ways off the main road, and led up to a child's room where a little girl lies asleep on her bed, feverish. Her mother and father are sitting by her bedside, tired looks on their faces.

They turn as you enter the room, glancing to their aunts with hopeful expressions. Ah fuck.

"Okay," you say, mostly to yourself, and then clear your throat to address everyone else. "Tell me what's wrong with her."

It's an issue of health. The little girl has always been frail since she's been born, and during a spike of ill weather a month ago, her health had taken a turn for the worse and she's never recovered. Your heart clenches as the mother recounts everything, breaking into sobs halfway through and leaning on her husband. You sit awkwardly on a chair beside the bed, listening to her crying. Death stands at the foot of the child's bed, silent, the picturesque Grim Reaper waiting to collect someone's soul.

But he's clearly not here to do so just yet. It's not time. He's waiting, and he's here to see if you're going to do anything to buy the girl some time.

You sigh and give the family their options, as best as you can.

"Here's my suggestion," you say, after you've told them about the Fountain of Youth and the Crossroads Deal. "We buy some time for you daughter, and then one of you travels to Far Far Away. There are more witches there, ones who can help with restoring health. This isn't my usual line of work, so I can't make your daughter magically well."

"Can you search for us?" the father asks.

"I'm afraid I'm already trying to search for someone else's problem," you say, and his face falls. These people have no knowledge of where to find witches when they've lived in a place so derived of them, and with so little time to save their daughter,  you can understand their anxiety.

You glance towards the girl. In the corner of your eye, you notice Death raising an eyebrow. You sigh.

"Okay," you say. "I'll…try to look for someone who can help." You try not to look at the couple's bright smiles as you take out your spellbook (you guess it really is yours now) to flip for the page to the Fountain of Youth. 

As you walk the couple through the steps for the spell, you try to ignore Death's gaze bearing down on you.

-

You grab lunch on the road so you can start your search into Elrick's affair first. Death had left after the Fountain of Youth exchange, and you relax at the sudden freedom from his judging stare. You start with interrogating Muffet about everything she knows about the situation, asking for names and addresses of her sources, and then go to investigate those sources afterwards.

By sunset, you think you have a decent grasp of the picture. The family you're dealing with is some old money bloodline that used to sell fabric to Duloc's old royalty. Ever since the collapse of the Farquaad line, they've been struggling to keep afloat, and are not entertaining commoners getting involved with their daughter. As some of the people you've interviewed are staff or family members of staff who work at this estate, you think the news of the girl being sent away in a tower is pretty reliable.

So that's a bust, as you'd thought it would be. No way you're getting her back to Poisonapple in nine days. Finding the original spellcaster to break the curse might just be as difficult, as according to everyone, the spindle that Elrick pricked himself on was just a regular spinning wheel. 

Magic. With all its clauses and implications and high specifications. The curse was probably something like as long as he pricks himself on something sharp and didn't really need a spindle. Kinda like how your curse needs words to be worded as a command, because requests never work. 

Well, you're heading to Far Far Away, you suppose. First to find a witch that can help with restoring health and another with a specialty in analyzing intricate spellwork to find a loophole. There has to be one. They used to televise princess christenings, and everyone saw the mess that happened with Sleeping Beauty. 

You grab dinner at the pub and pack up what little belongings you have, check that your weapons are in top shape in case you meet trouble on the road, and head out.

One day down, eight more remaining.

-

Far Far Away is several days away from Poisonapple and is terribly…loud. Loud and bright and bombastic. You're no stranger to bustling cities - you've worked many a job at Del Mar and their rambunctious parties. But Far Far Away is…

Well, there's 3d magical ads on billboards about perfumes and cheeses and all sorts of stuff every which way you turn. Bright, moving posters are plastered on every surface you can find. Television screens blast shows from the display windows you pass by. You've been in cities, but Far Far Away is a city-city.

Which means as soon as you start asking for a witch, several hundred people immediately start pulling you in several different directions.

"Would you like to get your future told? I can tell you your future career for a cheap price! And if you get the premium package, I can tell you what your future spouse is like -"

"She's a fraud! Don't listen to her, she ain't even a witch, she's a fortune teller. Now you follow me, lovely, I'm a witch, and if you get the Gold Plan of my services - "

"You're the fraud. None'a you lot even know what a fuckin' witch is anymore. I'm the actual witch here, descended from a long bloodline of -"

"Nobody gives a shit about your ma or your ma's ma and whatever broom they rode in."

"Why you - !"

It takes you thirty minutes to escape their grabbing hands and sprint away from their vicinity. Far Far Away, it turns out, has a thriving magical community, and a 'witch district', as locals call it. It's a long stretch of road that's nothing but magic shops, with sellers of magical items (both real and fake) and all sorts of magic users.

But you don't need a fortune teller, or whoever's gonna sell you which premium plan of their services. You need someone who can help a sick child, preferably a witch who specializes in herb or sky magic, and someone who can deconstruct a curse, which means you're looking for a wizard. Or a mage with a specificity in curse magic. Depends on who you can find, you're not picky. You've arrived at Far Far Away at noon, day four of your nine-day deadline; you've only got so many hours to spare.

You check in at the cheapest inn you can find, get a map of the city, and begin your usual interviewing. You introduce yourself as a traveler, sent in by your relatives to find a cure for your sick baby sister. There are a lot of fake magic users in town, you know that - it's a tourist town, after all - so hopefully, this will help narrow down your pool of options. 

The innkeeper is nice enough to mark your map to show you shops he personally trusts. Several of them, unfortunately, are inventory shops, and only about six of them are for magic users. You thank him for his time anyway, and spend the next few hours visiting one shop after the other. 

The inventory shops are legitimate, as far as you can tell, but their wares are more on the safe, legal side (so nobody can start slinging curses at each other). As for the people you visit, only two of them are of any help. One is a specialist in potions, the other in Earth magic. Close enough to what you were looking for.

They both know each other too, which is convenient. You invite them to dinner to discuss your problem and hope that the hefty chunk of your savings (and the girl's family's promise of free seamstress services) will be enough to persuade them to help you.

At six o'clock, both of them close down shop and meet you at The Wooden Eye, a small pub in the quieter side of town. You buy them drinks and food, hoping to get on their good side, before you recount to them exactly what's happened in Poisonapple that you need their help with.

Gertrude, the potions specialist, falls silent after your tale. Madeleine, the earth witch, puts a hand over her mouth as concern flits across her face.

"Oh, dear," she says. "I…am not sure how much I can help outside of advising them on dietary needs as supplements."

"Isn't Earth magic Life magic?" you ask.

"It is, but we still have specializations. It's not a catch-all thing. I work with plants, how to use them for divination, for healing, for protection. I make hex bags, talismans, healing poultices." She sighs. "I can't completely upturn a child's biological disposition, and thorough healing isn't my specialty. You need a sky witch for that."

"I can help make potions to keep the kid going for a bit, but it's not a permanent cure. It'll be like…taking vitamins, daily treatments." She shrugs. "Sort of like what Maddie can do."

"No, no, that's plenty of help," you say. "She can have a long life with steady treatment, yes?"

Both girls turn to each other. They nod, and say, "Yes."

You breathe out a sigh of relief. That's wonderful news. Better than you can ask for. You just need to convince them to help.

"Would you be amicable for travel?" you ask.

You need them to talk to the family in Poisonapple so they can have their own arrangement. You're a mercenary, after all, not an errand runner. You're gonna pick up a long job somewhere far one day, and you're not gonna be there as their middle man. You offer to pay for their fare back to the village, hand them a map and some instructions, and they thankfully, thankfully, agree.

Now for Elrick.

"I suppose you wouldn't know any wizards in town?" you ask. "I still have one other person I'm here on a job for."

"Last wizard who lived here moved far down the south continent to take care of her mom," Gertrude says. "What do you need help with? Maybe someone else in town can do it."

"I need a curse broken but we can't find the original spellcaster. True Love's Kiss is out of the options too," you say, taking a sip of your drink. "Some kid got cursed by a rich family for getting too close to their daughter."

Both of them wince.

"Yeah, I suppose you'll need a wizard to deconstruct the curse," Madeleine says. "Ain't there a mage at the Forbidden Forest though, Gerry?"

"He doesn't work with curses." Gertrude shakes her head, and to you, says: "Sorry."

"It's fine," you say. You have several leads anyway, all you need to do is chase them. You can pay a visit to the Forbidden Forest tomorrow.

You and the girls finish up your meal before you bid each other goodbye. You leave the pub, hunt down the nearest expedited magic mail service you can find to send a message to both families you're on the job for. Good news for the little girl's family, and a lead for Elrick's.

Hopefully the young boy's brother and father can be patient just a bit longer. Four days down, three left.

taglist:

@karenbomi @snail-noodle @allthenamesithinkofaretaken @lunamaye @lennnnnnnnn @nixeustheclamity @livdem1human @elasticelaine @mooncutiepie @lyslvnchry @spiritofboredom @kult-o @fuckthepatriachs @leoneisdying @briddy13 @barnesmorningstar25 @bitchadonis @charafrisk1 @crypticmushroom @kittycatcreatster @lumiiiiiiiiii

[chaifootsteps]

https://twitter.com/SlayQueenArt/status/1733636722414555147

have you seen this new thread on a spindle storyboard artist? I would never be comfortable with someone in my staff romanticizing the abuse story I wrote and playing it off as “sexy”

I've always defended Raph's very open taste in fucked up stories. It's not a professional look, but that's fine, they can like that.

The making weird sexual remarks at critics, and 15 year old ones at that, that's something Vivzie should have cracked right down on. But of course she never did.

[anna-neko]

horror may not be my genre, but damn I am a slut for some hella fine sound design editing inna audio-only medium

Magnus Archives had that slight hiss of tape. a familiar sensation frm days long past of taping music off the radio, or copying cassette to cassette to make the perf mixtape

now Protocol kicks it off with another forgotten noise. That very specific sound of an old beige-monstrosity PC booting up, complete with the lil driver checks beeps. My mind's eye [ha] can straight up see black screen runnin Memory numbers & the floppy-drive light blink

and swear to fuck, there is a dot matrix printer noise in there too

anyways, all the wonderful fanartists creating a flood of awesome new images - plz remember to add shit to the monitor! you do not get to be stuck in an office staring at this beige block for hours and days w/out starting to decorate it. A joke sticker in the corners, or tiny lil figs/keychains on the very top (those fuckers are wide enuff to support something as big as a small plush sitting up there!)

bonus points if the plush is the dumbest dumb goof evah! (the bug says Y2K on it, it made crashing noises)

anyway, yes, clutter that shit up!! Boxes of floppies (MAC or PC format), spindles of CDs, loose labels (for the disks), post-it notes stuck around monitor if cannot stickers. Bonus points for an ancient AOL CD (or similar junk soft) used as a coaster

I cannot emphasize how much real estate there is on those things for stuff!

[teeth-cable]

You everr realize that Vivziepop is completely bullshitting when it comes to ethnic casting because of Millie?

Like we are definitely getting imp human disguises for merch reasons so its definitely going to come up.

But like if Millie is black then her family should be played by black VAs but all of them are white VAs. Like I don't think Millie is adopted since she looks like a younger version of her mother.

The best course would then be making Millie white and no we can't use Erica being the original VA as evidence because that was always meant to be a temp casting.

But then this creates an issue in Helluva Boss having no fucking diversity like Vivziepop doesn't have to answer to corporate demands to make the ENTIRE CAST white. She can choose to add diversity.

If she makes Millie black that's also showcasing a huge issue in Helluva's lack of diversity in its main group of characters and Millie could come off as a token. Then you have the fact Morgana and Ed would come under fire for taking POC roles as well as Spindle allowing it unless Vivziepop retcons Millie as adopted or half siblings with Sallie.

Like Into The Spiderverse had half its human cast be POC and it answered to corporate demands. Then Across The Spiderverse without spoiling anything has a MAJORITY of the cast be POC.

Now you can argue Spiderverse is based off existing material unlike Helluva but those existing materials had put effort into adding POC in the first place. And guess what Spiderverse had consulted actual minorities when it came to development of the project.

Vivziepop is latina but she's white passing so she needs to consult people who don't pass to get a better understanding overall on things. Like I'm disconnected from my own culture but just because I'm part of it doesn't mean I have a full picture of it.

Vivziepop also isn't black, asian or indigenous so if she's telling stories that features them she needs to do research and consult people.

She actually consulted Morgana about Sallie May being trans thankfully but... I never hear any talk about other people she talks to which shows poor ass attempts. Like Morgana's insight is valid but she does not speak for all trans people and yes you aren't going to please everybody with representation but just consulting a SINGLE PERSON is insane. We also know Viv according to leaked screenshots has or had some form of transphobia so she absolutely needs to consult more people if she's trying to change and do better especially if she's writing about a trans character.

Like Morgana being a white transwoman will not have the same experience as a black transwoman for example. Like I know that from actively trying to learn about trans people.

Like there's a youtuber UnicornofWar who made a video about how the show RWBY is terrible at handling its racism allegory. Now Unicorn is white but actively went out of their way to consult multiple POC for the video and did a shit ton of research. Now I will say Unicorn in the past has said ignorant things about stuff like white washing (thinking its ok because of art style color pallets back then) in earlier videos but currently denounces that viewpoint (note: Unicorn as far as Im aware has never said anything with vile. I have to clarify so I don't misrepresent their person and people don't assume Unicorn like said a slur) and actually apologizes for their ignorance.

Has Vivziepop ever denounced her old views or behavior? Has she apologized for being ignorant in certain things? Is making a serious effort to change? Has Vivziepop researched throughly and listened to POC insights or concerns?

As far as I'm aware she hasn't.

I have noticed Viv's weird choices for Millie as a black character. I hate to say this but Millie is supposed to be token rep which to me is weird because nobody was pressuring Viv to add rep to her shows. I will say this even in a universe where Viv hired black VAs to voice Millie's family and did do properly research and consulted black people, Millie would still be considered token rep because she is the only the only main character in the show to not have an self-centered EP and has the least amount of screentime.

It makes me wonder if the reason why the IMPs don't have a canon human form yet is because Viv doesn't want to draw POC characters. She has shown she knows the importance of these disguises and they sell well on merch but the only characters who have canon human forms are Stolas and Loona, two white characters who arguably don't even need them. Blitzo is voiced by Brandon Roger who is a mixed Filipino (It's also canon Blitzo looks like Brandon Roger and Blitzo and Brandon Roger are intertwined together so it doesn't make sense for Blitzo to be white), Millie being a black woman, and Moxxie, despite what you might believe is a mixed Latino.

The POC rep we already have isn't good either. In Spring Broken, Verosika and her gang, who the majority are POCs, gets arrested and Verosika makes a joke about sucking police dicks to get out of jail. Having a POC character make a rape joke about police corruption unironically is not funny. Moxxie's mom is obviously supposed to be Latina, falls into the trope of nice POC women who get brutally abused and killed by their white husbands. This actually could have work and wouldn't be as tokenizing if 1. we got to learn about Moxxie's mom as a person and 2. her death wasn't solely use to be angst bait for a male character.

The Spiderverse crew actively puts effort and consulted with POC about characters from their culture. During the early stage of writing for Pavitr Prabhakar, the writing team struggled writing his character and called his VA, Karan Soni to help them write and consult on the character. Thanks to Karan Soni's contribution for Pavitr Prabhakar, he is beloved by desi people alike. Viv doesn't do that and probably will never. She has shown time and time again, she doesn't respect religions, using their symbols as an aesthetic and for monetary gain. Viv's designs for black and other POC characters are terrible, them alway never having POC features and looking racial ambiguous as hell and she ignored the criticism from black and POC people for these POC characters.

[showtoonzfan]

I’ll be back to answering my inbox soon! Just know I haven’t forgotten lol, I’m still on break technically. At first I was planning to do it when the episode dropped, but we got this from Viv:

Not sure how long the wait will be but if it turns out longer than I think, I’ll come back, but if not, I maybe just might wait till it drops, review the episode, and answer old questions along with new ones.

In the meantime, I think I’m going to make a new rule for myself. I’m going to try to stop talking about Viv as a person, and only focus on her when it has to do with her shows, NOT her personal life. That’s what’s been draining me the most, of course I’ll still reblog other posts talking about how she abused her fucking employees and isn’t a good egg, as well as if any other spindle members come out, I’ll make a post, but I really need to distance myself from Viv and her fandom, especially when making the same long rant posts about how much she sucks because it’s the same every time and it really is exhausting. I’ve been saying the same thing over and over again and people already know how I feel about her, so there’s no point in making myself seethed, especially since most of the writing issues with Helluva could be simply boiled down to “Well the creator obliviously isn’t a good person”. I’m also going to stop uploading stuff from twitter regarding her and drama as well, again, from now on I’ll focus on the art, not the artist, and only bring up her mistreatment of others when it’s necessary. Of course I will bring Viv or the fandom up and bitch about them if it has to do with the show’s writing or a character, but regarding how the fandom are a bunch of childish children who can’t take criticism and suck up to everything Viv does? Nah, I’ve said that enough as well. I’ll still answer asks regarding Viv or the fandom tho, just don’t expect rants about how Viv sucks or her fandom anymore unless it has to do with the shows writing. Thank you, and I’ll see y’all soon!